Don't Save It All For Christmas Day
by flashpenguin
Summary: Childhood friends Joss Carter and John Reese made a pact to stay together forever...until fate ripped them apart. Seventeen years later they are thrown together again, but this time a clause in Joss's grandmother's will force them to work together. Can the promise they made years ago guarantee a future? Or will they find out that no Christmas wish is impossible when you have love?
1. Chapter 1

_Hope you don't mind that all of my other stories are on hold as I write the annual CaReese Christmas story. The idea came to me a couple of years ago when people on the POI Shark board were trying to think of a project for Jim and Taraji to do together. I'm not very good at screenplays, but after last year's "Hope Is Born Again" I thought this idea was too good to sit on a shelf. This story is about loss, loneliness, redemption, and finding out that love is the greatest gift anyone can receive. I hope you like it._

 _I don't own Person of Interest._

 _Song prompt: "Don't Save It All For Christmas Day" by Celine Dion_

* * *

 **Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

 _ **Lawerence Park Township, Pennsylania**_

 _ **Two days before Christmas**_

The twinkling lights decorated the outside of the two story house, but the mood inside the interior was somber and sad. Soft music played in the background as people filed by the short woman dressed in black. Some shook her hand, others leaned down to give her a hug and whisper words of condolence in her ear.

But Sara Carter didn't hear any of it. Her heart was too broken to care about much of anything, but she tried to put on a brave face. Friends and neighbours were turning out to pay their respects, so the least she could do was pretend to care.

"Oh, Sara," a white haired woman cried as she approached. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Joan." Sara tried to keep her emotions under control, but with each passing minute it was getting more difficult.

"This is such a sad day." Joan took Sara's hands in hers and squeezed. "How are you holding up?"

"I don't know," Sara admitted honestly.

"So young. They had their lives in front of them. Oh, it's just not fair." Joan dabbed at the corner of her eyes. "Or that it had to happen right before Christmas."

"I want to believe it was God's plan."

"God's plan or not, it was definitely Divine Providence that kept that little girl from being in the car that night," Joan declared and broke into fresh sobs. She couldn't imagine Fate being so cruel as taking every member of the Carter Family. Someone with a kind hand had had compassion for Sara.

Wordlessly, Sara put her arm around her friend and guided her outside to the porch. The crisp, cold air had a bite, and the grey sky that matched the mood of the women seemed to have a hint of snow, although the ground was clear.

"God knew I was going to need her," Sara confessed. "I don't know what I would have done if all of them had..." Her voice trailed off. She wouldn't think about worse case scenario. Not ever. She had her precious granddaughter, and she was going to treasure and hold her close.

"Only He knows the plan laid out for us."

"That is true. I just have to keep telling myself that, so I can believe it." Sara looked out at the horizon. "Maybe it's too soon to accept it." But when would enough time pass so she could accept it, she wondered sadly.

"It takes time," Joan gently comforted the best she could. Now was not the time to preach and pontificate about love and destiny and the Kingdom in the sky. It was time for grieving and helping her friend forward as she took those difficult baby steps.

"I know."

"What about...money? Is...is everything going to be okay?"

Sara nodded. "Chris and Mila had life insurance policies. And there is the trust fund set up when Joss was born," she revealed that not everything was grim and dire. Although it was difficult to believe that there could be a tomorrow. "We will have enough. And I found out that when Joss is eighteen, she can use her father's unused GI Bill to go to college."

"That is going to take a lot of the burden off of your shoulders. We should be thankful that Chris and Mila thought into the future."

"I am." Her only child had always been so prepared and thoughtful where his family's welfare was concerned. It was almost as though he had had a premonition that he wasn't going to be around for very long.

"How is Joss?"

"I don't know. She hasn't spoken since we got the news," Sara confessed. The little girl had clammed up and hung her head when the police had arrived with the devastating news that her parents had been killed in a head on collision with a semi-truck that had over corrected after hitting black ice.

"She is probably still in shock. She'll come around."

"I don't know. She hasn't even cried." Was that normal for a five year old? No book had been able to answer that question. But then again, losing a parent—or both—was much different than losing a pet.

"Children grieve differently than adults. She lost her parents and home all in one week. Once she settles in, she'll go back to being a normal little girl. It just takes time."

"I have been thinking about moving to D.C.," Sara said softly. "Christopher bought that house, and she should live there. But I don't know. Maybe I should keep her around the things she finds familiar. Maybe letting her finish school with her friends."

"You would have to rip her out at the end of the school year. All it will do is cause more scars and pain. Familiar is good, but she needs stability, too. Trust me, this will stay with her and help her recover."

Sara's nails dug into the wood railing of the porch. The tears she had been holding back, fell from her eyes. Her voice was hoarse as she asked, "But will I?"  
*******

Unknown to the two women, up in a tree, on a branch near the middle of the giant oak, sat a little girl. Still as a statue, she sat and looked out at the horizon. But her eyes didn't see. All she knew was her heart was broken because her mommy and daddy went away to Heaven, and she was never going to see them again.

"Can I sit with you?" a voice asked softly.

Joss flicked her gaze down to see a dark haired boy shimmying up the tree. She didn't answer. Instead, she turned her head and looked away.

Not taking response as a no or a yes, the boy continued his ascension until he was sitting on the tree branch beside the little girl.

"I'm John," he introduced himself and extended his hand. The invite was ignored. "You must be Joss. I'm sorry about what happened to your parents."

"Go away."

"I can't."

"Why?" Joss asked.

"I'm afraid of heights," John confessed.

Joss made a face. "Then why are you in a tree?"

"Because you looked lonely."

"You are afraid of heights, but you climbed a tree?" she asked in disbelief. She scooched over to make a wider space between her and the strange boy. She knew he had to be crazy.

"Why not? Sometimes you have to do things that might scare you so you can help someone in need," he reasoned logically. "My dad always said that you have to take the bull by the horns if you want to succeed."

The image of taking a bull by its horns made Joss frown. "What does that mean?"

John shrugged. "I don't know, but my dad says it can make anything happen."

"I'm not touching a mean old bull."

"Me neither."

Joss looked up into the sad blue eyes looking at her. There was something almost comforting about them.

"My name is Joss Carter," she introduced herself.

"John Reese. Your grandma is looking for you."

"I don't want to go; I want to stay here." She would glue herself to the branch before she went down to be hugged and kissed by strangers who were crying and grabbing her so they could tell her stories about her parents. They scared her.

"But what about Christmas?"

"I don't like it no more." Joss angrily kicked at the air. "I don't like anything no more." Why didn't God want her to be with her parents? Did he not like her? Well, if He didn't like her, she didn't like him.

"But what about the presents? Don't you want to see what Santa brought you?"

"No."

"Why not?" John tried to make sense of it in his nine year old mind, but it didn't make sense. Presents made everyone happy—no matter what pain they were in.

"Because my mommy and daddy won't be there," Joss whispered on a choked sob.

John reached out and took her hand in his. He felt an inexplicable need to protect and comfort Joss. As he looked deep in her big brown eyes, he felt his heart do a weird kind of flip.

"What if I opened them with you?" he offered carefully.

"You would do that?"

"Yes."

A little smile tugged at Joss's lips—the first since that tragic night. "Okay. John?"

"Yes?"

"Can we stay up here for a minute?"

"Sure." He didn't want to go anywhere, either.

Impressed, Joss scooched over so she could be side by side with John. She took his hand in hers and held tight. "I don't want to be alone." Alone meant scary dark places with monsters who had big yellow teeth and fiery green eyes with long fingernails that wanted to hurt her. But the boy sitting beside her would fight those monsters, she was sure of it.

"You're not alone, Joss," he promised and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Joss lay her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "Thank you."

Tomorrow was too far away to think about, but it didn't matter to the pair who decided to live for the moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Time**

 _Los Angeles, California  
Present Day_

With her hair twisted in a chic chignon and expensive glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, Joss Carter looked every bit the part of Departmental Manager of Oversight. And by her cool, collect, and calm way she stood in front of the board of executives as she prepared to deliver her presentation no one who knew her doubted her ability to get exactly what she wanted. And right now she wanted money.

"...so, if you'll turn to page four," Joss directed in the authoritarian tone that left no room for argument, "you will see the breakdown for the construction and maintenance. With the implementation of greener energy products, we'll be able to deliver under budget while providing excellent returns," she quoted from memory.

There was a moment of silence as the eyes at the table perused the fact sheet. One hand shot up in the air.

"Your points are excellent, Ms. Carter, but what is the overall cost?" the handsome man in the three-piece suit asked in a semi-condescending tone.

Joss smiled primly. "You will find a list of the costs on page six. The projected cost is around fifty million dollars."

"But we don't have the land to build," the same man countered.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Business section of the Wall Street Journal. Apparently the owner is having second thoughts. How do you plan on building a resort on land that isn't ours."

"Yet," Joss added. "It isn't ours, yet. But it will be." Inside her shoes she crossed her toes for luck.

"The last time I looked, having second thoughts on a deal isn't exactly a recipe for a successful transaction."

"Our lawyers are working out the last little details of the contract to insure that the transaction is smooth."

Another hand rose in the air. This time it was a woman. Her expensive business attire couldn't disguise her dour expression.

"Two million dollars for the property. Isn't that a little...cheap?" the woman asked snidely. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Joss. There was no disguising her implication that the land may not be all that the firm was praising it to be.

"Considering the quality and location, the land is prime real estate and we are getting it at a bargain basement price. The proprietor is a widower who wants to off load the land before he dies. As long as we don't turn it into a landfill or a nuclear waste dumpsite, he doesn't care what happens to it; he is happy to have the money to leave to his children," Joss returned in a voice equal in ice.

"And a resort is the perfect way to develop the land? For what, a cheap B and B?"

"Beachfront real estate in a high tourist area," Joss returned. "It's a win-win. In five years we will have recouped all the monies—plus a hundred times that amount."

The man at the head of the table cleared his throat in hopes of breaking up the potential cat fight. "When do you plan on breaking ground?"

"The day after Christmas."

"Won't most of the construction crew be on vacation?"

"For the money we are paying them, they will be on the job. Since we do plan on opening on Labor Day, the sooner we can get the construction underway, the better," Joss stated without apology. She looked at her watch. "If there aren't any more questions..."

"I'm still unsure about the details of the contract on page ten," the woman from earlier spoke up.

"I'm sure Ms. Carter will address your concerns later. We should adjourn."

The notebooks closed and the executives stood up to file out the conference room door. As the last person departed, Joss finally let out the breath she had been holding. She closed her eyes.

"Quite a presentation, Ms. Carter."

Joss spun around. "Cal. You startled me."

Dressed to the nines in his custom tailored three piece suit, Cal Beecher grinned as he sauntered over. "Startled you?" he asked surprised that he could get that reaction from her. "Nothing startles the unflappable Jocelyn Carter."

"I have a lot on my mind." Joss set about gathering the pens and pencils from the table top. She dropped them in the box. She tried to focus on something other than the moment—as long as it wasn't talking. She had talked for nearly an hour, and not all she wanted to do was get lost in legal briefs and court decisions...after lunch.

"The land acquisition. It's as good as in the bag, babe." His grin was wide to show perfectly straight, white teeth.

Joss smiled to hide her disgust at the derogatory term. "I guess."

"What's bothering you?"

Joss shook her head. "I don't know. I just...have a bad feeling."

"About the deal?"

"Yes. No. That something is out of my control and my life is going to go in another direction," Joss confessed. A part of her wanted to tell him about the nightmare that had woken her in the middle of the night to leave her shaking and drenched in sweat. She wanted him to assure her that everything was going to be alright. But the logical part of her knew that he would never understand. After all, she was Jocelyn Carter, ruthless Oversight manager. She didn't get shaken by nightmares.

Cal chuckled. Stepping closer so he was face to face with her, he took her in his arms. "The only direction your life is about to take is when the land becomes ours and we make more money than the law allows."

"You sound confident." Joss smiled as she relaxed. Slightly. Something she couldn't put her finger on, prevented her from completely relaxing in anyone's presence. Cal Beecher was no exception. She chalked it up to their office romance that was supposed to be a secret.

"So...what are we doing for Christmas?" Cal asked, changing the subject.

"Nothing." Joss stacked the legal pads beside the box of pens.

"Nothing? Oh, I forgot that you don't celebrate Christmas," Cal mocked but his eyes danced. "You should."

Joss sighed. "This isn't the time to discuss my lack of holiday participation." She tried to break away, but Cal tightened his hold to prevent her from leaving. "Cal, I have to go."

"Maybe this can change your mind." Cal reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to Joss.

"What is this?"

"Open it."

Tearing open the seal, Joss reached in and pulled out two airline tickets. She looked at destination. "Barbados?"

"The island getaway."

"We live in California; why would I want to go to a tropical island?" She tried to make sense of his gift idea but came up with nothing.

"Oh...I don't know. No traffic, clean air, perfect temperatures, and the perfect place to have our honeymoon."

"Honey..." Joss's eyes flew up to meet Cal's. "Honeymoon? You mean like...married?" she joked, but the look in his eyes let her know that he wasn't joking. In fact, he was serious.

"Yes."

In shock, Joss didn't know what to say or how to reply. "I don't know. I mean, do we really want—I mean, are you sure?"

"We're perfect together. We also work well together. And when the land acquisition comes thru, you'll be getting that promotion. It will be what we need to move forward," he listed all the positive reasons for their merger.

"But marriage...that's a big step. I need time to think about it."

"What time? We elope. End of story."

Joss tried to stall him. "What about family?"

Cal scoffed at the suggestion. "What family? My parents won't care, and you don't have a family," he reminded her.

Joss looked down at the tickets. "Yeah, I don't have any family," she repeated in a low whisper.

"I think we ought to get married on Christmas Eve morning, then fly out that day. Then I can wake up with you on Christmas Day," Cal decided without consulting her opinion or desires.

"Cal..." Despite her ability to be in charge in front of a board meeting, she was losing control of the moment.

"Maybe this will change your mind." He pulled out a small black box. He opened it to reveal a large square cut diamond in a gold setting.

"Oh, my," Joss breathed as the precious stone caught the light in the room. It was almost too spectacular to look at. "Is that a...an engagement ring?"

"It's whatever I need to make you my wife," Cal replied vaguely.

"I need time—"

A knock on the door sounded, followed by the clearing of a throat.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but there is a call for Ms. Carter."

Joss pulled out of Cal's embrace so she could face her petite assistant with the dozen questions in her eyes. "Who is it, Sameen?" she inquired in a tone that was completely professional despite the compromising position she had been caught in.

"A lawyer by the name of Harold Finch."

"Who?"

"Harold Finch."

Joss took the opportunity to take her leave. "If you'll excuse me, Cal, I need to take this." She hurried out of the room.

"Dinner? Tonight?" he called out behind her.

"Sure," was her only answer.

Double timing her pace, Joss rounded the corner before she stopped to catch her breath. "One Mississippi...two Mississippi...three..."

"Are you seriously thinking about marrying that playboy?" Sameen said as she caught up to Joss. "Tell me that you aren't, and I won't tell you that I'm putting in my resignation."

"How is it any of your business? And who said anything about getting married?"

"Uh, that huge honker of a diamond he flashed at you says he wants to take you and make you his," Sameen returned in mock shock. Was her boss really so dense not to see Cal for the snake oil salesman he really was?

"I didn't say yes," Joss defended. She began walking back to her office.

"But you didn't say no."

"It could work out."

"Pshaw! He's a silver spooned fed playboy who has had everything handed to him," Sameen listed the best of Cal's qualities.

Joss turned the handle to the door of her office. "Who is Harold Finch?"

Sameen shrugged. "A lawyer. I think he said he's calling from..." She perused her notes. "...um, Pennsylvania."

Joss froze. "Did you say Pennsylvania?"

"Yeah. What's wrong?" Sameen noticed the change in Joss immediately. She reached out and touched Joss' shoulder.

"Nothing. Did he say what he wanted?"

"No. But I could tell by the tone of his voice it's probably important. Um, can I get you a coffee?"

Joss tried to steady her nerves. "Sure. Two..."

"Creamers," Sameen finished. "I'll be right back." She hurried to the break room.

Joss counted to three, turned the handle, stepped inside the luxurious office decorated to compliment her. Making her way to the desk, she settled into her chair, then picked up the phone.

"Jocelyn Carter."

"Good afternoon, Ms. Carter. My name is Harold Finch. I am calling on behalf of Sara Carter."

"Sara Carter is my grandmother. Has something happened?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Carter. I wish there were a better way to tell you this..."

Joss grasped the receiver. She held her breath as she waited for what ever news he had to relay.

"...your grandmother passed away last night."

Joss blinked in shock, but her brain couldn't absorb the news. "She...my grandmother...she is...dead?"

"I'm sorry." Empty words of consolation. But what else could he say?

Joss opened her mouth, closed it. Twice. "Are you sure?" she whispered. A funny feeling started in her toes and ran to her stomach. The small knot grew in size with each passing second.

"I'm afraid so, yes."

"When is the funeral?"

"In two days. I've courier expressed a ticket on the next available plane into Erie," Harold informed kindly. "You'll have a rental waiting."

"I—"

"As her representative, I will need you here to settle up the estate."

"Estate?"

"You were named in her will as one of her heirs."

"I'll be there. What time is the flight?" Joss grabbed a pen and sheet of post-it paper.

"Two o'clock. The flight number is—"

Joss looked at her watch. "That's two hours."

"You'll make it?"

"I'll make it," Joss promised.

"I have included my contact information in the packet should you need to contact me," Harold informed her.

"Thank you."

"Will you be needing lodging?"

"I'll make that arrangement when I get there." Sleep was the last thing on her mind. She had to hurry and get home.

"Thank you, Ms. Carter."

"Thank you, Mr. Finch." Joss hung up the receiver and stared at the wall in shock. Her grandmother was dead? Her nana was gone?

A knock. "Joss," Sameen called out as she entered the office. In her hand was a large mug, in the other was an express envelope. "This was just dropped off for you."

Joss reached out to take the envelope in her hand. "Thanks."

"Is everything okay?"

"There's been a family emergency. I need to go home." Joss stood up.

"When will you be back?"

"I don't know. I fly out in two hours." Joss removed her purse from the bottom drawer and slung the strap over her shoulder.

"Fly out? Where are you going?"

"Pennsylvania." Joss pulled on her coat. "Western Pennsylvania," she further explained.

"What about your three o'clock?" Sameen wondered as she stood in the middle of the room with a full cup of coffee.

"Reschedule."

"When will you be back?"

"A week." Joss shrugged. "Or two. Nothing longer." She closed the briefcase. If she was forgetting anything, she could have it FedEx'd out later.

"But..."

"You can contact me via email or phone. I'm going to Pennsylvania, not Kandahar."

"What's the difference?"

"More green. More snow."

"What about Cal?"

"Tell him that an emergency came up and I had to go out of town. I'll call him when I get there." Joss tossed a keyring toward the petite woman. "Could you stop by my place and water the plants and feed the cat?"

"Sure?" Sameen managed a smile. "Have a safe flight."

"Thanks." Joss hurried out of the office, not bothering to close the door behind her.

"Oh..." Sameen breathed. "I have a bad feeling about this. A really bad feeling."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hope you enjoy this new chapter.  
In memory of Pearl Harbor, I won't be posting on Dec 7th.**_

* * *

 **Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

" _Oh... The weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful..."_

Joss reached over and turned off the radio. After the day and evening she had had, the last thing she wanted to listen to was cheery holiday music. Something depressing—maybe a country song or two—seemed more appropriate. Then again, with the way the snow was falling, concentrating on the road, not the radio, should be on the agenda.

Grasping the steering wheel, Joss tried to remember the basic driving techniques in bad weather. Seventeen years in sunny southern California had nearly erased all of the defensive driving she had learned when living in snow country. Rain, yes. Snow, not so much. But it was like riding a horse, right?

"No, not snow country," Joss muttered under her breath as she peered out the windshield, "more like the area where cold is made to be shipped out to the rest of the country." In response, the snow came down faster, and in bigger flakes. Considering how her day had begun, it was no surprise that it was ending in a blizzard.

Had the plane not been delayed in Denver, she would have arrived in Erie earlier and been able to settle in to a hotel room. But engine trouble and a thunderstorm prevented the take-off by three hours, and now she was helplessly driving around the outskirts of the city. Sure, she could have gotten the Tom-Tom to help her navigate, but she had grown up in the area; how difficult would it be to find her grandmother's property? Obviously more than she had planned.

It all started when she pulled out of the airport—which had expanded considerably during her absence. And the roads that had been empty or non-existent then, were now bustling with businesses of every type. The once empty beach of the peninsula was now a beautiful dock to many boats—private and corporate. Her heart squeezed painfully as her childhood memory died.

When had everything changed?

Somehow she had found herself outside of town heading south toward parts unknown. Taking a breather, she turned the car around and headed northeast. Yes, she should have asked for directions, but that would have shown weakness, and Jocelyn Carter didn't show weakness—not in her business life, and certainly not in her private life. Besides, she was not stepping out of the car, into the cold, to get directions from the bum sitting outside the laundromat.

Finding her bearings—finally!-she turned down the long road, Joss tried not to remember the many summer nights she had spent driving down the dusty dirt paths, with nothing but the bright moon shining down. More than a few times she had snuck out the bedroom window to meet with _him._ Just the two of them down by the pond, talking, holding hands, making plans...

 _And all for naught,_ the little voice in the back of her brain mocked.

"Hush!" Joss commanded sharply. An instant later, she regretted speaking up as her breath fogged up the windshield. Quickly she turned up the defroster, but all it did was add to the fog and make it more difficult to see. With the sleeve of her coat, she viciously wiped the condensation, but it only made things worse.

"For the love of Pete!"

Joss slowed the car down, and cracked open the driver's side window. That seemed to help—a little. Maybe if she tried the navigation app on her phone. Reaching down, she grabbed the cell and hit the power. A second later the battery picture came on, with a message: Recharge!

Muttering a curse under her breath, Joss threw the phone down. She couldn't be very far from the farm, she reasoned. "It has to be here—somewhere." She looked down at the gas gauge. A half a tank. Maybe if she couldn't find the house, she could turn back around and get a room in the city.

Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, a bulky figure covered in snow was illuminated by her headlights. Swerving sharply to the right, Joss narrowly avoided the object. But the victory was short-lived as the car began to fishtail. She hit the brakes hard, causing the car to helplessly spin around. Two complete spins, then a sudden stop as the car pitched forward into a ditch, hood first.

Joss felt herself being hurdled forward, followed by a sharp pain in her head, before the seatbelt yanked her back against the seat. A second later the airbag released. There was barely time to register the moment.

Then Joss' world went black.  
**********

John Reese rolled over and punched the pillow. Hard. It had been a long day trying to get the hay into the barn, and with the way the skies had turned a dark grey, he had nearly double-timed his efforts. The last bale had made it in as the sky let loose.

Sure, he could have waited a couple of days, but he needed to do something to take his mind off of his broken heart. Tomorrow he was meeting with the pastor and the lawyer to finish the funeral details. Maybe then he could decide on which outfit Sara would want.

Closing his eyes, his ears perked up at the sound of snow brushing against the outside of the house. Snug as a bug, he was safe from the wind and snow, but a little part of him flashed back to when he hadn't been so safe.

"No," he told himself. He was not going down that lonesome road of self pity tonight. Then _her_ face flashed behind his eyes. Her smile seemed to taunt him, haunt him—especially on nights such as this one.

Rolling over to his left side, he took a deep breath and tried to relax before anger consumed him.

"The least she could have done was leave a forwarding address. A phone number. Something." Again, something that could wait until morning, he decided. It was no use getting worked up over something that was out of his hands. If only he could talk to her one more time...

The sound of a crash had him sitting up in bed. It sounded as though it had happened just outside his window. Tossing aside the quilts, John bolted to the window. What appeared to be headlights, shined down below.

"What was that?!" a young boy's voice spoke up from the doorway.

"Stay here, Taylor," John ordered. He didn't bother to grab his robe or shoes as he ran from the room, down the stairs, out the door. He vaulted over the porch railing and landed with a thud and a groan in the snow. His adrenaline was so high that he didn't feel the pinch in his ankle as he ran toward the car. The First Responder training kicked in, and he made a quick assessment for the number of people inside. From what he could tell there was only one.

He hurried over to the driver's side and yanked open the door. Reaching over the deflated airbag, he turned off the ignition, then the lights. If the car wasn't totaled—or if it was—the battery could still be salvaged, he thought for some unfathomable reason.

"Lady," he called out. He looked for a response. He gently slapped her cheeks. "Lady, wake up! If you can hear me, make some kind of noise." He slapped again. Joss' head lolled to the side, then she gasped.

"Is she going to be okay?" Taylor asked from behind.

"I thought I told you to stay inside?"

"I want to help. I brought a blanket to keep her warm." Taylor handed over the afghan. John took it and wrapped it around the woman.

"Go inside and get some blankets and put some water in the tea kettle to boil." With a nod, Taylor ran back to the house.

"Where am I?" she groaned. She hurt and she was cold. But there was something comforting about the voice calling to her.

"Don't move. I need to get you out of the car. Hold still," John commanded. He released the buckle. He knew he shouldn't move her, but the storm was raging, and he needed to get her inside. Sliding an arm under her thighs and another behind her back, he lifted her up. She barely weighed anything, he thought.

"C-c-cold," Joss chattered as the icy cold wind and snow hit her full force in the face.

"I'll get you inside. Keep talking, sweetheart," he encouraged. The fact that she was talking and conscious was a good sign. He could make a better assessment inside. He heard barking in the distance. He smiled. Leave it to Bear to guide him back.

"D-d-don't c-c-call m-m-me swee-sweetheart," Joss bit out as her teeth clattered together.

"Whatever you want, lady."

Ever so gently, John climbed the steps of the porch. Bear whined. "Come on, boy." John waited for the canine to go inside first before he followed, kicking the door closed behind him. He stood in the middle of the living room, trying to soak up the heat. Only then did it dawn on him that he was barefoot.

"The water is on," Taylor said as he ran back to the main room. "Who is she?" he wondered.

Setting the woman down on the couch, John leaned over and pushed her hair back from her face. Brief surprise, followed by anger, fleeted across his face as he recognized the face of the woman he had just rescued. He smiled.

"Hello, Joss. Fancy meeting you here."


	4. Chapter 4

_A quick update: Taylor is not John's son. It's a long story that I hope to have explained in the next few chapters. As for Joss...well, her past with John will be explained soon, but for right now they have to get thru the morning after. Hope you enjoy. Oh, and thanks for all the kind reviews._

* * *

 **Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Confusion was written all over Joss' face as she peered closely at the man leaning over her. There was something vaguely familiar about his voice—his eyes. Those blue eyes...

"John? What are you doing here?"

John gave a small snort. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I meant, what are you doing in my grandmother's house?" Joss demanded. Not matter what happened to lead her to the moment to be in front of the last person she had ever hoped to see again, there was no way she was going to let him get the upper hand.

"I live here."

"You live here?" Joss repeated in a surprising mocking tone. "Isn't that convenient." She didn't mean it as a compliment.

"Somebody had to stay and help Sara," John returned evenly. "I just happened to be closer." Angered by the implied insult left unsaid, Joss struggled to get up. "What are you doing?"

"I am trying to get up."

"Lie down," John ordered.

"I am not going to lie down," Joss returned hotly. She sat up and pushed the blanket off her legs. John pushed it back.

"You've just been in an accident, and you bumped your head," John pointed out matter of factly. "You need to rest and take it easy for the next couple of hours."

"I'm okay."

"You suffered a concussion, Joss."

"What are you, a doctor?" she asked angrily.

"And if I am?" he returned in a smooth tone that diffused the possible volatile argument.

Joss sighed and leaned back against the cushions. "Okay, I'll give you a couple of hours," she conceded. "Then I want you to leave."

John's eyes widened at her audacity. "Leave?" he echoed with a hollow laugh. "Oh, sweetheart, I don't think that's going to happen. At least not while the storm is raging outside."

"Storm?"

"Uh, yeah, snow. Falling fast. An inch has fallen since you crashed into the fence," he informed her with a shake of his head. Although his temper was being reined in, his eyes still drank in Joss' features. She was breathtakingly beautiful—more so than when she was seventeen. She still had the same big brown, doe-shaped eyes, and the carefully applied make-up only enhanced them. She had lost some weight, making her cheekbones more prominent but not hollow. Her lips...

"John?"

"Huh?" he replied stupidly as she brought him back to the moment at hand.

"Will you help me up?" she asked, holding out her hand.

"Why?"

"So I can go to my room."

"You don't have a room anymore," he informed her coldly.

Joss chuckled and shook her head in denial. "Yes, I do. It's the one at the end of the hall."

"That's Taylor's room."

"Taylor?" She looked around and spied the little boy sitting on the piano seat. Her eyes jumped from Taylor to John, then back. "Okay, what about my grandmother's room?"

"Not a good idea," he evaded answering honestly.

"Why?"

"Because." His tone warned her to drop the subject.

"I don't understand."

"I haven't had time to get new mattresses, Joss," John muttered under his breath for her ears alone. Her eyes shifted downward as the meaning dawned on her.

"Oh. Sorry."

"I take the third room. That leaves the couch."

"I can take the couch," Taylor volunteered. He didn't know the relationship between John and the woman laying on the couch, but he could feel the animosity between them and it made him nervous. Absentmindedly, he began scratching at his wrists—an action that was not lost on John.

"Taylor..."

"It's okay. It will make it easier for you to wake her up every two hours," he explained his reasoning for giving up his bed to a total stranger.

John sighed. "It guess it's settled." He leaned over and took Joss into his arms.

"Wait!" she protested. "What are you doing?" She briefly struggled against the strong arms holding her. "Put me down!"

"You're injured, Joss."

"I can walk."

"You suffered a concussion. You might be feeling dizzy or lightheaded..."

"I'm fine. Put me down."

"I'm only trying to help," John apologized mockingly.

"I'm quite capable of climbing the stairs. Now put me—"

John tilted his head down so his lips were close to her ear. "Stop making a scene in front of Taylor, and let me carry you to the room, okay?"

Joss swallowed and nodded her head. "Okay." The fight slowly left her as exhaustion and fatigue took over. Giving in, she let her body go limp. In the morning she could find out what was happening and why John Reese was living in her grandmother's house. But right now she wanted to sleep.

Laying her head against John's chest, Joss barely heard the footsteps on the stairs as Taylor hurried to gather his items for sleeping on the couch. She faded in and out as John carried her to the room and waited for Taylor to get a new comforter.

The feel of the sheets was almost like heaven, she thought to herself as John laid her on the bed. She barely felt him take her shoes off.

"Get some sleep," John ordered gruffly and pulled the covers up to Joss' chin to block out any chill in the air. "I'll be back in two hours."

Joss' mumbled an incoherent reply.

John stared at the sleeping woman for a long moment before turning about and heading to the hallway where Taylor stood. Quietly they tip-toed down the stairs to the living room.

"Thank you for giving up your room," John praised the selfless act.

Taylor raised and dropped a shoulder. "It was nothing." He took a corner of the sheet and placed it over the couch cushions. On top of that he placed a light blanket and quilt. "She needs it more than I do."

He settled under the covers and tried to find a comfortable position. "Dad?"

John turned around. "Yeah?"

"Is that Grandma Sara's granddaughter? The one who ran away?" Taylor asked carefully. In his short life, he had learned to judge people on first impressions, and the first impression of Joss Carter had him shaking in his shoes.

"It is," John confirmed but didn't elaborate. "It's getting late, Taylor; you need to get some sleep." He reached over and turned off the lamp on the end table.

"How long is she going to stay?"

"I don't have any idea," John replied with complete honesty. The fact that Joss had shown up out of the blue after being gone for seventeen years, had complete thrown him for a loop. All he could do was wait until morning to find out what her plans were—and if they included staying in Pennsylvania. He would bet the farm that she would be on the first plane back to wherever by the end of the week.

"I'm not sure I like her."

"Go to sleep, Taylor," John ordered gently.

"Night, John."

"Night, son."

Quietly John tip-toed out of the room, up the stairs to his room, closing the bedroom door behind him.  
*************

Some strange creature was making a weird noise, Joss thought to herself as she came back to consciousness. And the bed was shaking. Oh, no, that can't be a good thing.

Sitting up, she looked around the room. A moment later a dog jumped up on the bed. "What?!" Joss exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing?! Get off! Get off!" She tried to shoo the dog off the bed, to no avail.

"What is going on?" John asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway. "Bear! Down!" he commanded briskly. Bear followed the directions, hurrying over to his master's side and taking his place.

"That was one way to wake up," Joss said in disgust. She wiped her hand over her face to remove the dog kisses.

"He thought you were Taylor," John apologized half-heartedly. He tried to think of anything other than the way Joss looked—tumbled and rumpled from sleep, her hair mussed and unkempt. She almost looked...approachable.

"Do I look like a young kid?" Joss asked, incensed by the mistake.

"No. But Bear is a dog. How do you feel?"

"Like I flew across the continent, got lost in a storm, and took out a ditch so I could wake up to a dog licking my face. But overall, I'm fine," Joss replied as she listed the previous day's events that led her to where she was right now. "Is it true?"

"Yes," John confirmed. Sadness was in his tone.

"When?"

"Two days ago."

"I didn't even know—"

"Breakfast is ready if you want to come downstairs," John rudely interrupted. There were chores to be done, funeral arrangements to be made, and a child to take care of. He didn't have time for excuses.

"I brought up your luggage from the car. Not sure if you have anything in there that will ward off the cold," he informed her.

"Thanks."

"I'll see you in five." Turning on his heel, he closed the door behind him.

Joss blew the lock of hair out of her face. "Well, that went great, Joss. I can't imagine what's next," she said to the empty room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

"John wanted me to tell you that there's coffee made, and he left a plate in the microwave for you," Taylor said from his place at the kitchen table. He looked up quickly, then returned his gaze to the project he was working on. He had hoped that last night had been a bad dream, but seeing Joss standing in the doorway made him realize it hadn't.

Thinking she was alone in the house, Joss was startled for a moment. "Thanks." Taking a mug down from the cupboard, she carefully filled it with the hot coffee. Her eyes looked around the small kitchen that hadn't changed much—save for new wallpaper and new flooring. Her heart squeezed painfully.

"You can sit down if you want," Taylor invited without much warmth. She had been impolite and rude to John, and in his book that was a cardinal sin.

Joss pulled out the chair across from Taylor. "What are you doing?" she asked politely.

"Drawing."

"Anything in particular?"

"No," he replied tersely at the intrusion.

"May I see?"

"I'm not finished." Taylor's hand quickly picked up, then discarded, many crayons as he furiously scribbled on the paper. From the way he bit his lower lip, it seemed to be a tedious project.

"Um...your name is Taylor, right?"

"Yes."

"What grade are you in?" she fished for information. He seemed like a nice kid—a little shy and withdrawn, but there was something lost and lonely about him. Much like she had been at that age.

"Fifth."

"Is there school today?"

"I'm home-schooled."

"Oh." Well, that answered that. Joss sipped the coffee and blanched at the strong flavour that seemed to resemble burnt tire rubber. She set the mug down on the table. "Where's John?"

"He's finishing up chores, then he has to go to town to finish the funeral arrangements."

Joss debated going outside, when the kitchen door flew open. A snow covered dog came bounding inside, followed by a heavily bundled John. Bear shook himself free on the snow. Ignoring Joss, he went over and laid his head down on Taylor's lap.

"Good morning, Taylor," John greeted. "Did you finish your homework?"

"All done," Taylor announced proudly, holding up the completed worksheet. John took it and looked it over. He nodded as he read the answers.

"What's that?" John nodded toward the picture.

"Just something I'm working on. It's not ready yet."

"Did you eat?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't you go put some shoes on, and we'll go to town?"

Taylor stood up. "Okay." He ran from the room. He didn't need a second urging to get away from the strange woman who was staring at him.

John opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. Opening it, he drank straight from the container.

"I see your manners haven't changed much in twenty years," Joss observed dryly. It was true that some men didn't grow up.

"And I see that you are still critical of others." John replaced the juice. "Did you eat?"

Joss shook her head. "Not hungry."

"Convenient. It's going to be a long time before dinner," he warned.

Joss pretended not to hear him. She tried another sip of the coffee and tried not to choke as it coated the back of her throat with the nastiest of after tastes. Adding creamer only seemed to exacerbate the taste.

"At least it won't go to waste." John took the plate from the microwave, walked over to Bear's dish and scrapped the plate into the dish. "Come here, boy," he called. A moment later the dog bounced into the kitchen. Before Joss could protest, the bowl was licked clean.

"Taylor said you're going to town to finish the funeral arrangements?" Joss changed the subject.

John shrugged. "Nothing much to finish. Sara was pretty methodical about making plans for when it was her time. All I have to do is drop off what she's going to wear."

"Grandma was always a stickler for planning and organizing. Can I help?"

"Nothing much else to do. Her detailing left nothing out." She's even gone so far as to choose the speakers and the songs to be played. Her request had been that she not be mourned but her life be celebrated.

"What about the will?"

"What about it?" John asked nonplussed by the question. He had been waiting for her to ask the question; he was just surprised that she had waited this long.

"When will it be read?"

"Eager to get back to California?"

"I just wanted to know so I could plan..."

"Plan what, Joss? How to hock what Sara may have left you so you can high-tail it back to sunny California and go back to the rich, cushy life-style you've become accustomed to?" John replied snidely. "Toes in the sand, splashing on the beach, drinking champagne at some upscale resort as you hobnob with celebrities?"

Offended by the insult, Joss stood up. "No."

"Then what?"

"I don't know," she admitted honestly. She hadn't planned on anything other than closing the deal and begin the construction in one month. Her grandmother's unexpected death had thrown a monkey wrench in her plans.

"Do you think you're going to get the house?"

"Why not?"

John snorted sarcastically. "What makes you think you deserve it?"

"It's my house."

"Excuse me?" John held her stare without blinking. "You haven't lived here for seventeen years—eighteen, come February. It's not your anymore."

"It's still mine."

"That is Sara's decision. But until the will is read, Taylor and I have a verbal agreement with Sara that we could stay on here until she passed—and one month after that," John replied smoothly. He poured himself a cup of coffee. Taking a sip, he continued, "You, on the other hand, are our guest."

"Guest?" Joss shook her head in disbelief. Pushing away from the table, she stood up to walk over to the sink. "My home. My grandmother. And it is I who is the guest," she replied in disgust. She dumped the coffee out in the sink.

"Don't be upset, Joss. The couch will always have the 'welcome' sign on it."

"You make a lousy cup of coffee," Joss bit out before turning on her heel to march out of the kitchen to the backyard.

A small smile tugged at the corner of John's lips. "Yep."  
******

She would never admit she was wrong. And she would never admit that she was cold. But if she had to go back inside the house, she would be admitting both, and she would rather freeze to death first. Okay, she thought bitterly, but did the wind have to pick that exact moment to blow from the north?

Shivering, she tucked her fingers under her armpits in an attempt to warm them. She stood by the fence and counted each second that passed until John and Taylor left for town. Then she could go back inside and take a long hot bath and just relax. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the truck still parked in the driveway.

"What is taking so long?" she muttered thru chattering teeth. She looked over the snow covered field and tried to remember what was missing. Hadn't there been a couple of trees there? And what happened to the rose bush under the window?

"Normal people go out with coats," John said as he approached Joss. His feet made a dull crunching sound on the freshly fallen snow.

"It's not that cold," Joss contradicted. _No,_ the little voice in her head corrected, _it's freezing!_

"I might have to disagree with you. Latest report said it's seventeen degrees outside. Wind chill is making it feel like ten."

"Oh, so now you're a weatherman?"

"No, that is the guy on the radio. I'm just someone who doesn't want you to freeze." John handed her the coat. "Here. Put this on."

"I don't want it."

"Joss, you're cold."

"I don't want the coat," Joss refused thru clenched teeth. No way in the world was she going to shiver and give him satisfaction of being right.

John sighed in exasperation. "You are the most stubborn woman I have ever known. Just take the coat and put it on."

"And if I say no?"

"Look, Joss, I have a dozen things I have to do today, and arguing with you over a stupid coat is not even on my list. If you want the coat, fine. If you don't want it, fine. Freeze. If you want to catch pneumonia, that's on you. I've done my part." He laid the coat on the fence. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to town."

He turned and walked to the truck.

"Unless you want to go."

Joss turned around. "What?"

"Do you want to go to town?"

"I..." It would mean being confined inside the truck cab—with him—for a long while. But there was a heater in the truck, and she could warm up enough to take care of a couple of things.

"Are we going to Erie?"

"Yes."

"Okay," she relented. Slowly she slipped the coat on and relished in the warmth of the down material. On feet that had lost feeling, she hurried as fast as she could to catch up to where John stood waiting.

"I'll drop you off so you can get some warmer clothes," he remarked. Before she could protest, he continued, "Whether you are here for two days or two weeks, the weather isn't going to get any warmer, so you may as well dress for it."

"Thanks." Joss opened the passenger side door and looked in. "The dog? Really?"

"Dog comes. Kid comes. Don't like it, suck it up or walk. Non-negotiable."

"Oh, this is going to be fun," Joss said under her breath as she sat down and fastened the seatbelt.

"Ditto." Starting the engine, John reached over and turned on the heater. A blast of air hit Joss in the face. She pulled back. "Sorry."

Joss pushed the loose locks of hair from her face. "Heh."

Putting the engine in drive, John pulled the truck slowly around the horseshoe driveway to the edge of the street. "Let's get this show on the road," he announced, then clicked on the radio. Instantly the space was filled with the Chipmunks Christmas song. John lent his voice to the artificial falsetto.

" _Christmas, Christmas time is near..."_

Barely able to hear herself think, Joss turned her face toward the window to watch the scenery pass by. "Like I said, fun," she muttered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

The bell above the door jingled as John walked into the diner. A few heads looked up and a couple of people greeted him with hello. Nodding back, he took a seat at the counter. His task was done, and now he needed to relax for a minute—away from the pain in his heart, and away from Joss.

"Coffee?"

John couldn't even manage a smile at the middle-aged waitress. "Sure."

"You look horrible. I have some industrial strength."

"Make it a double, Rosie."

She gave him a wink. "You got it, honey."

"I heard Sara Carter's prodigal granddaughter is coming home," the portly police officer muttered from his place three seats down.

"She's here."

"And you're still alive?"

"Give her time, Lionel, she has had a few bumps along the way," John defended Joss for some reason he couldn't explain. The coffee cup was filled, and a slice of pie was set beside it. Rosie gave him a wink before tending to the other customers.

Lionel raised an eyebrow at the remark. Without asking permission, he gathered up his plates and silverware and moved to the stool next to John.

"You like her."

"Shut up, Lionel."

"You can't tell me to shut up," Lionel retorted.

"Yeah, I can." John took a gulp of the coffee. Smooth tasting, rich blend of finely ground beans. It beat the mud he had deliberately made this morning.

"That's how you treat your best friend," Lionel grumbled and viciously cut his steak. "I knew I should have arrested you back when you broke into that building."

"You weren't a cop then, and you were with me."

"Still should have..."

"Has Sam heard anything about Taylor's situation?" John asked.

"They are still trying to find his father. Guess he's in the wind. You didn't hear this from me, but there is going to be a court date next week."

"Next week?" John echoed and shifted on the stool. As though he didn't have enough happening in his life, now he had to go to court for a hearing related to his custodianship of Taylor.

"You're going to show up?"

"I'm going to be there, but there might be a problem."

"Joss? I can't imagine her staying for very long."

"No. A place to stay."

Confusion darted across Lionel's face. "A place...? But you have a place," he argued.

"Not really. That's Sara's home...and it's Joss' home, too. Legally. She may want it back."

"Want it back?!" Lionel threw his silverware down on the plate. Some customers turned to look at him. "That house is yours fair and square. If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to you, pal."

"That's not how the law sees it."

"Forget the law. Possession is nine-tenths of the law. Joss ran away; she lost her right to the house."

"She's still blood relative," John stated the true but sad fact.

"What does the will say?"

"I guess the lawyer is going to read it after the funeral," John shrugged. No matter who got the house, it was out of his hands. Unfortunately, that was not going to help with getting custody of Taylor. Maybe he could start looking for a new place on Thursday.

"Sara loved you like a son," Lionel said emphatically. "You and Taylor were the only family she had, and you were there when she needed someone. Unlike that granddaughter of hers."

"No one knew how to find her." The one time he tried to approach Sara, she had made an excuse that if Joss wanted to talk she knew the number, and something about not wanting to intrude. Then she changed the subject.

"Don't defend her, John. We live in the age of technology, and in two keystrokes we could have found her. Heck, I could have done a search on my police computer. Brought her home where she belonged."

John didn't want to fight. The funeral was in two days, and now his and Taylor's residence was in jeopardy. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Joss.

"She's home now."

"And you might be homeless."

"Lionel, I don't want to talk about it." John tried to concentrate on the coffee, but it was impossible.

"Twenty years later, and she can still get to you."

"She hasn't gotten anything," John contradicted. But his heart picked up speed—the same as it did whenever Joss was near or her name was said.

"Joss could set you on fire, my friend, and you would have run to bring her more wood," Lionel declared. "And I'm sure that if she lit the match now, you'd stand still."

"I broke her heart."

"And that gives her the right to do the things she did?" Lionel sputtered with incredulity.

"It's a long story, Lionel, and this isn't the time or place."

"Have it your way, Wonderboy." Lionel picked the fork up and stabbed the piece of steak. "What time is the funeral?"

"Eleven on Saturday."

"Sam and I will be there. Do you need anything? Does Taylor need anything?" Lionel offered his assistance.

"No, but thanks for asking." John finished his coffee, stood up. "I'll see you Saturday." He pushed the slice of pie over beside Lionel's plate. "Here."

Lionel's face brightened. "Thanks. Tell Taylor hi for me."

"Will do." John reached for his wallet.

"I got it. Go take care of the kid." Lionel put emphasis on the word kid.

"Next one's on me." John smiled, then turned on his heel to hurry out of the diner.  
**********

"Joss? Joss Carter?" a female voice called out. Joss, her arms filled with bags, turned toward the direction her name had been called from. She watched as a slender brunette woman hurried down the sidewalk toward her.

"Joss. It is you," the woman said and tried to catch her breath. Joss gave her a blank look. "Zoe. Zoe Morgan. We went to high school together," she supplied the information to help jog Joss' memory.

The name was vaguely familiar but the face wasn't. "Oh. Zoe."

"I didn't know you were back in town."

"I arrived late last night," Joss answered but didn't elaborate.

"So sad to hear about your grandmother," Zoe sympathized. "She was a good woman. Good person. Always came in to buy her coffee and pastries."

"Oh? You have a business?" Joss inquired cordially.

"A little coffee shop. Just across the street. She always showed up on Thursday like clockwork. I'm going to miss her."

"Yeah."

"So, what have you been doing? Where did you go?"

"I'm a manager for a large corporation in Los Angeles. We develop five-star resorts and B&B's."

"Sounds exciting."

"It has it's moments."

"I guess you'll be staying for a while?"

Joss was flummoxed by the remark. "Uh...what do you mean?"

"I guess you went clothes shopping. I hope that means you'll stick around for a while. Maybe we can get a coffee and you can tell me all the Hollywood gossip," Zoe winked. "My treat."

"I...um...well..." Joss stumbled to find an excuse to back out of the invite. She didn't want to be any more obligated than she already was.

"No rush. Drop in any time. Tell John hi for me, and let him know I'll be bringing Sara's favourite blueberry scones for the after service dinner." Zoe patted Joss' arm. "Gotta get back to work. See you later."

Speechless, Joss stared as the tall brunette hurried across the street and ducked inside a building. "Okay, that was strange," she muttered to herself. Her phone rang. Hitting talk, she spoke. "Joss Carter...yes, thank you for calling back about the car...I haven't touched it...when?...an hour? Thank you; I'll be there." She ended the call.

"Okay, John, where are you?" Her eyes looked around the area for the tall man. Seeing him walk out of the library with Taylor, she was tempted to raise her hand but stopped. Not wanting to call attention to herself, she walked over to the truck.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" John asked.

"A few things. I got a call from the rental company; they'll be sending an adjuster out to the house in an hour," Joss explained.

"Then I guess we should head back to the house," John said and held open the door for Taylor. "You might want to put those in the back," he suggested with a nod toward the packages in Joss' arms.

"Not with the dog."

"Afraid of hair?" John mocked.

"Amongst other things. I'll hold them up front," Joss said with veiled defiance.

Avoiding a scene, John shrugged. "Have it your way." He waited for Joss to get inside and settled. "Don't forget to buckle up."

********  
The insurance claims adjustor took the pictures and made the necessary notations as he surveyed the rental car. His expression didn't change as Joss explained what happened to cause her to crash into the ditch.

"...then I turned on the defrost, but all it did was fog up the windshield. As I tried to wipe off the condensation, this...deer—animal of some type—appeared out of nowhere."

"Hmmm hmmm."

"I swerved to avoid it, but the tires...I hydroplaned; spun around, and landed in the ditch."

"I see." The adjuster adjusted his glasses. "Well, the car is totaled."

"I was hoping it wouldn't be," Joss groused. Would she be getting any good news?

"I'm going to submit your claim to my office. Then I'm going to send a tow-truck out to get this." He patted the trunk.

"I'm going to need another car."

"You'll need to work that out with your insurance company. I'll be emailing the information to you later today or tomorrow so you can send it to them."

Joss sighed. "So until then I'm without a vehicle."

"I'm sorry." The adjustor fished in his coat pocket and produced a card. "My name and number is right here. If you have any questions, call me."

"Just not about another rental." Joss held the card before putting it in her jeans pocket.

The adjustor walked over to the car. "Have a nice day, Ms. Carter." He closed the door and started the engine. A minute later he pulled away and headed down the lonely country road. Joss watched as the car faded into the horizon.

"Impossible."


	7. Chapter 7

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

"Dinner is ready," John announced with a knock on the door frame of the bedroom where Joss was busy organizing her clothing. After the claims adjuster left, she tried to occupy her time by picking out something suitable for Sara's viewing. Everything seemed tacky or audacious or boring.

"I'm not hungry," Joss declined the offer without looking up.

"You didn't eat this morning; I'm going to take a wild guess that you didn't eat yesterday; you need to eat," John told her point blank.

"I'm fine," Joss waved him off. Where was that one outfit she purchased earlier? She looked thru the boxes but came up empty. "Where is it?" she muttered angrily to herself. Furiously, she started moving the boxes and bags and dumping them out on the bed.

Stupefied, John watched. "Where is what?"

"The dress I bought. Black with white piping," she described, not looking up. "I know I bought it."

"Joss." John stepped forward. "Joss. JOCELYN!" he raised his voice to snap her out of her trance.

Wild-eyed, Joss looked at him. "What?"

"Calm down." John reached down and pulled the dress out from under the pile of clothes. "Is this what you're looking for?" he asked softly. Joss took it from him and held it tight against her body.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Unable to meet his eyes, she looked down at the Ninja Turtle comforter. Her mind tried to make sense of the absurdity of the moment but failed.

"Nothing to be sorry for." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Come downstairs and have something to eat."

"John..."

"It's just spaghetti and meatballs, but I'm sure it's edible," he joked lightly. He could see the bags under her eyes, and if he had to make a bet, he was sure she hadn't slept well in a long time.

Joss looked around at the mess. When was the last time she had lost control over something as asinine as losing a dress? She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. Tears filled her eyes. To add insult to injury, John had witnessed her meltdown.

"Come downstairs, Joss. Take a moment and relax."

Dropping her shoulders, she relented. "Okay."

"Go wash up. Dinner will be on in five minutes." John left her to be alone. Joss waited until she heard his footsteps on the stairs, then she let out a sad sigh. The option was off the table, she had to go downstairs.

Ducking into the bathroom, she quickly freshen up. Five minutes later, she was sitting at the round kitchen table. Her stomach rumbled as the aromatic scent of tomatoes and spices tickled her nose.

"Smells good," she complimented and laid the serviette in her lap.

"I hope so, since it is my own recipe. Taylor, will you get the salad out of the refrigerator?" John asked as he dumped the noodles in the colander to drain, then into a large serving bowl. He set the dish in the middle of the table.

"Is there anything I can do?" Joss offered.

"Sit. I just need to get the sauce." He ran the large ceramic bowl under hot water to warm it up before spooning in the sauce. A minute later he placed it next to the noodles. Wiping his hands on the tea-towel, he sat down.

"The bread," Taylor reminded.

"How did I forget?" John donned the oven mitts and removed the hot garlic bread from oven. He put them on a plate. "There we go." Looking over everything, he bowed his head.

Taylor nudged Joss. "Bow your head," he whispered loudly. Joss did as she was told.

"Lord, we thank you for all You have given us. Amen," John prayed aloud.

"Amen," Taylor repeated. He handed his plate over to John, who filled it and returned it.

"Joss?"

"I can get it," she politely refused his offer.

"It's tradition," Taylor spoke up.

"Taylor, don't speak with your mouth full," John gently reprimanded.

"Sara started it. She said it brought the family together."

"Oh, okay." Joss handed over the plate. She watched as John loaded her plate with noodles and sauce. Breaking off a large piece of bread, he placed it beside the entree.

"Oh my," she breathed, taking in the portion. "I'm not sure if I can eat all of this."

"Anyone who doesn't finish their dinner has to do the dishes," Taylor muttered around the piece of garlic bread.

John smiled. "He's right." He winked.

A tiny smile tugged at her lips and Joss ducked her head. She picked up her fork and twirled it around. She lifted it to her mouth.

"This better be as good as you bragged."  
*****

Joss leaned against the railing of the porch and groaned. She was afraid that if she moved, she might explode. Never had she eaten such good food. When was the last time she had had a home-cooked meal that hadn't come out of a frozen pre-made package?

"Thought I might find you out here," John said as he walked up beside her.

"I can't move. You didn't tell me you could cook," she chastised.

"Would you have believed me?"

"Probably not. Did Grandma teach you to make that?"

"No. That was my mother's recipe. But Sara did teach me other dishes and how to bake," he answered.

"No, she didn't."

"Scout's honour." John held up the required fingers for the Scout pledge.

"You were a scout for one month," Joss argued.

"It's the one month that matters," John argued back. "Sara thought I looked too skinny when I returned home, so she fattened me up." He patted his stomach for effect. Before she could help it, Joss looked, then averted her eyes.

"You're not fat."

"Neither are you. You're too skinny, Joss," his tone was more of concern than reprimand.

"So, Grandma taught you to cook because she thought you were too skinny?" she scoffed. "That sounds like her? What else did she teach you?"

"Baking and sewing. She thought it might improve my marketability and help me land a wife."

"Like you need help."

"I thought so, too. Obviously I need more help than I thought," he groused good naturally. He leaned against the railing and looked at the sky above. The stars were starting to dart the sky. With any luck the sky would be clear of any snow storms for Sara's funeral. At least he could hope.

"I ran into Zoe Morgan," Joss remembered the meeting from earlier.

"Ah, Zoe. How is she?"

Joss shrugged. "Good, I guess. I don't know her well enough to say otherwise. She said she is going to bring Grandma's favourite to the after service meal."

"Blueberry scones."

"Can't get anything past you."

"Not when it comes to Zoe's scones." John licked his lips for effect.

"I'll bet. So, what do you two bachelors do for fun around here?" Joss wondered. She realized that right now she would be having dinner with Cal and a few of their friends—maybe going to a club afterward and having a few drinks—dancing until the wee hours of the morning. If she was lucky, she might fall into bed and catch a couple of hours sleep before sucking down three caramel frappuccinos on her way to, and at work. And if all went well, and deals were made and her calendar was clear, she did it all again.

"When it gets cold enough, we go skating on the lake. But tonight, in memory of Sara, we are going to watch a couple of movies she liked," John said. "'It's A Wonderful Life' and 'Meet Me In St. Louis'."

"I like those movies." She'd forgotten how many times she had watched those classics. A part of her wanted to join him and Taylor, but another part just wanted to go to bed and sleep.

"I made a fresh cherry pie for dessert," John sweetened the deal. "Chocolate and vanilla ice cream, too."

"Whipped cream?"

"Homemade."

"You had me at dessert."  
******

" _I can't believe it; right here where we live. Right here in St. Louis..."_

John turned off the DVD player, then the TV. Curled up beside him was Taylor, fast asleep. "Well?" he asked.

Joss wiped the tear away with the back of her hand. "It's still as good as I remember—although it's been quite a while since I've seen it," she admitted.

John looked at his watch. "I think we should turn in. Tomorrow is the viewing and I'm sure it's going to be a long day."

Joss looked at Taylor. "He could have the bed," she suggested.

"You would need to clear it off. Plus all of your luggage is in there. He'll be fine down here," John said. Holding Taylor up, John slid out from beside him, then he laid him down. "Get his shoes." Joss took off the sneakers and placed them near the couch.

"Here." She handed John the comforter. "What time should I set my alarm?"

"Seven. We will have at least a dozen things to do before six tomorrow night," he told her.

"Yeah."

On tip-toe they climbed the stairs.

"Thank you for dinner."

"You're welcome."

"See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight Joss."

"Goodnight John."

Joss closed the bedroom door behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

The house was bursting at the seams with food and people who had arrived to pay their last respects to Sara Carter. Friends near and far had come to visit the home of the woman they had all loved and respected. The tears were few, but what tears flowed were followed by numerous stories of Sara throughout the years.

Taking on the hostess duties she knew her grandmother would have wanted her to, Joss stood in the foyer and greeted every guest with a handshake and a thanks. She had stood and listened to the kind sentiments lauded and answered the questions surrounding her return. She kept her answers short and just informative enough to satisfy even the most inquiring mind. Standing off to the side, Joss had decided to keep a low profile. Her heart hurt, but her smile was genuine as she listened to people talk about her grandmother.

"Remember when she took over the Christmas celebrations when the director bowed out?" one woman asked as she recalled the memory. "Sara didn't know the first thing about directing a play, but she whipped everyone into shape. That was the best play this town had ever seen."

"And every one after that," another woman injected.

"Like we were going to be able to stop her. She was a saint."

"Not many like her." Heads nodded in agreement. Eyes were wiped of tears.

"Sad that she doesn't have many family left. Her heart never recovered from Chris and Mila."

"She took in their daughter," one lady reminded.

"And that Army veteran and his little boy," another added.

"Her granddaughter came back. Coincidence that she was at the funeral? I think not."

"Now, Winnie..." Joan cautioned.

"I know why she's back. And it wasn't to say her good-byes. She should have stayed away. Didn't she cause that poor woman enough grief while she was alive?"

"That's not nice," Joan reprimanded. For some unknown reason she felt the need to protect Joss.

"I'm not saying anything wrong by voicing my opinion," the older woman indignantly replied at being called on the red carpet.

"We're supposed to be remembering Sara. She would want us to treat Jocelyn like family."

"I guess you're right," Winnie conceded ruefully. But there was defiance in her stance. No one told Winnie Baker when and where she could speak her mind.

Joan looked over and raised her hand. "Joss, please come over," she invited happily. Reluctantly, Joss walked over to the group of women. Warily she smiled at the group of older women who were looking her over and passing judgment without saying a word. Not even the most hardened CEO had caused her to shake in her Manolo Blahniks. But this was different than any negotiation or presentation. Way different.

"We're so glad you could make it back," Joan said and gave a quick squeeze.

"I knew Grandma...well...I'm not sure..." Joss wasn't sure what to say to take the look of condemnation from the women's eyes.

"We heard you moved out to California," Winnie said and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Why anyone would want to live there is beyond me."

"It's a lot warmer there than it is right now," Joss replied with just a touch of snark.

"All I'm saying is that I don't know why some people would want to leave—especially when they have to leave their family behind."

"I..."

"But you're home now," Joan interrupted. "Right where you belong."

"Thank you, Aunt Joan." Joss hoped her words sounded more convincing to them than it did to her.

"And we aren't going to let her go, are we, Joan?" Winnie's smile was saccharin sweet.

"I...I still have a job out there," Joss argued.

Winnie's curiosity was peaked. "Oh? What do you?"

"I'm a manager for a firm that builds Bed & Breakfasts and resorts," Joss explained. "Maybe you heard of the one that opened in Kill Devil Hill, Virginia this past July?"

"I remember seeing it on the news. A lovely building," Joan praised. "I've thought about vaca—"

"It's a vulgar buidling," Winnie interjected haughtily. "All that wealth put into a ostentatious playground for pompous rich people. You wouldn't catch me dead there."

"Hmmm hmmm. Me too," a couple of ladies chimed in their disapproval.

"Now, Winnie," Joan rebuked, "that isn't nice. I'm sure it's beautiful. And it's right there near the beach."

"Lots of shark attacks in that area," Winnie sneered, not hiding her contempt for what she disliked. "Build a resort and disrupt the land, then subject your visitors to shark bites. Not much of a manager, if you want my opinion. Everyone would have been better off if the money had been donated to a worthwhile charity for children. Who wants to play golf when children are starving?"

"Well, we build them; we don't manage them—although I heard that the resort you're referring to managed to raise a million dollars for the Children's Hospital with their golf tournament last year. As for your concern about injuries... There were no reports of shark bites," Joss replied back in the same tone she reserved for the most critical of clients who decided to try and walk all over her because of her gender. "But not every shark lives in the water."

Joss turned to face Joan. "If you don't mind, I need to get some fresh air."

Joan patted Joss' arm lovingly. "I can take care of things for a while. Go take a break."

With her head held high, Joss walked briskly toward the foyer and yanked open the door. A blast of cold air filled the room, but she didn't bother to take her coat as she stepped outside.

"That wasn't very kind, Winnie," Joan rebuked the older woman.

"I was just telling it like it is; so sue me." Winnie turned up her nose in defiance.

"We just got her back; don't chase her off."

Winnie lifted the tea cup to her lips. "Who needs to chase her off?" she asked rhetorically. "She'll be gone by the end of the week. Mark my word."  
******

Joss stood at the far end of the porch and tried to take a deep breath of cold air to calm herself. There were tears in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. All she wanted to do was run away—far away from the biddies who called themselves Grandma Sara's friends.

"I would, but I don't have a car," she groused.

"You would what?" John asked as he came up behind her.

"Leave."

"Already? But you just got here," he teased lightly.

"I have a job and a place," Joss argued in her defense for why she felt the need to depart. She would never admit that the hurtful remarks had anything to do with it. "And a cat. I need to get back and take care of her."

"Here," John said and unwrapped the shawl. He placed it over Joss' shoulders. "You'll catch your death."

"I'm fine," Joss protested.

"It's cold."

"Not that cold." Joss began to pull the shawl off. John stopped her.

"It's Sara's shawl."

Joss closed her eyes and gave in. "Okay. You win."

"So, why are you standing out here trying to turn yourself into a human popsicle?" he wondered.

"I just needed some fresh air." _Among other things_ , she finished silently.

"I guess it had nothing to do with the way Miss Winnie was treating you." John watched for any sign that he had hit a nerve, but Joss didn't so much as flinch.

Joss lifted her chin. "She has a right to her opinion."

"She doesn't have the right to hurt you." John's eyes were soft and understand.

"I've dealt with people worse than her."

John shrugged a shoulder. "That's your job. And I doubt any of them made it personal."

Joss looked at the sky—gray, dreary, no snow, but it was raining. Soft and warm. Just like Grandma, Joss thought with a tinge of sadness. "This is all going to be ice in the morning," she remarked negatively.

"Rain is good."

"How so?"

"Rain at a funeral means the person is at peace. I'm sure Sara found peace with your coming home."

"Well, I have to leave."

"Right away?"

"Next couple of days. I have to get back to work."

"Doesn't leave enough time to grieve," John said with a slight touch of accusation in his tone.

"Life goes on. I'm in the middle of a very important land deal right now. It could mean the difference between employment or unemployment."

"I would think that they would at least allow a few days to take care of business." No one could be that cruel, could they?

"I've had a few days to come to grips with it."

"The will needs to be read," he reminded her.

"I'm sure they can forward it to me." Joss turned her back to him to hide the tears misting her vision.

"Not possible, Joss. You need to be here so you can hear what Sara had to say. See what she had to leave you."

Joss spun around. "Leave me?! There is nothing that I want!" At least nothing of material value that would make a difference in her life.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. And even if she did, what would it be—this house? The land? I don't want it!"

"It's yours—right or wrong, it's legally yours."

Joss turned around. "I don't want it. And if Grandma was so..." She took a shuddering breath. "All I am going to do is sell it. Everything. I don't want any memories."

"That's selfish," John said without even trying to hide the hurt in his tone.

"Yeah, John, it is. Do you know why? Because I'm selfish, and I'm into making deals."

"That's the hurt talking." John took her arm, but she pulled back. "Come inside and get something to drink. I'll make sure that Winnie leaves you alone."

"I'm not going back in there—but to pack up and leave."

"What about me and Taylor?"

"I'll give you time to find somewhere else."

"It's nearly Thanksgiving, Joss; there isn't going to be much available. And winter is coming," he reasoned logically. He could see that she was hurt, but he didn't want to argue. Not here. Not now. And not like this.

"That's not my problem."

A loud beep broke the tension.

"What is that?" John asked.

Joss pulled out her phone. "My airline confirmation. I managed to get the last seat on a flight out to L.A. tomorrow afternoon."

John's jaw clenched. "So you'll be gone. For good." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." Her spine straightened in defiance. She would not give in. Not to him. Not now. Not ever.

"Running away."

"It's what I'm best at—don't you know? But you would know, so you're the last person who needs to be lecturing me about getting my priorities straight," she said in a hoarse tone filled with pain and hurt. She started to walk past John. He reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Not like this, Joss."

Joss shook him off. "My mind is made up. I'm leaving and never coming back.

"Just like that."

"You have 'til the end of the week." Stomping off, Joss hurried down the steps toward the barn. From her posture, she signaled that she didn't want to be followed. Not that John would have. He wasn't an expert on women by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew better than to cross Joss Carter. Maybe he could change her mind tomorrow and make her see that she was jumping to conclusions because of others unwarranted opinions.

Running a hand over his hair, he took a deep breath, then let it out.

"Sara, where are you when we need you?" he asked to the empty area.

But he got no reply.


	9. Chapter 9

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Joss was having the weirdest dream. She was sitting on the beach of a tropical island and basking in the sun. In her hand she held a cold drink—a margarita made just right; and the music was playing—except it was a song unlike any she had heard before. The rhythm sounded like the shuffling of feet or sandpaper on wood. She tried to place where she had heard the sound before but couldn't.

Rolling over, she burrowed deeper under the covers that had suddenly stopped giving warmth. Opening one eye, she peered at the room and found it suspiciously dark—darker than it should have been since it was nearly dawn. Then she heard the noise—the same noise that had been in her dream. And she groaned.

The sound wasn't sandpaper; it was snow being forced against the house and brushing up against the wood siding. They were having a blizzard. And there was no way she was heading back to L.A. today or tomorrow. If she was lucky. And so far, luck was in short supply.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and shoved her feet into fuzzy slippers, then reached for the oversized robe hanging on the back of the chair. She slipped it on and quietly walked to the door. Stepping into the hallway, she checked to see if the coast was clear before heading downstairs.

Joss tip-toed into the living room, careful not to wake Taylor, who was snoring peacefully. Reaching for the throw on the back of the recliner, she gently placed it over the sleeping boy. She took a moment to look at him as he slept in peaceful slumber. A part of her wanted to know what his story was and how he found John and her grandmother. But the logical, no nonsense part knew that it would be foolish to get attached. Not all ties were meant to bind.

She stepped back. On alert, her nose caught the faint scent of coffee and she perked up. Then inwardly she groaned. John was awake, and there was no avoiding him. Still, she tip-toed across the floor.

"Good morning," John greeted from his place at the kitchen table.

"Hi John." Joss stood in the doorway and soaked in the warmth. Still she shivered for some unknown reason. Maybe it was the way John's blue eyes were focused on her. Or maybe it was the way that in saying nothing, he was already finding a way of bombarding her with dozens of questions.

"I made coffee," he offered and held up a mug.

Memories of the cup of coffee he had made on her first morning caused her to blanch. She shook her head. "No, thanks," she declined the offer. "I want my toothpaste to last until the storm is over."

John's eyes danced with humour. "It's good. I promise." He crossed his heart.

She gave in. "Uh, okay."

"Sit. I'll get you a cup." John stood up and walked over to the counter. While he filled the thick ceramic mug with the scalding hot, aromatic brew, Joss took the chair opposite his. Her finger traced the faded but familiar daisies imprinted on the table top.

"Two creamers?"

Surprised by the question, Joss sputtered, "S-s-sure. Yes. Thank you." She watched as he prepared the cup. "You remembered," she murmured, a little touched by the act.

"Here." John handed over the mug. Joss took it and wrapped her hands around it to absorb the warmth. "Are you hungry?"

"No, thanks." Her appetite was still non-existent, but she wasn't going to tell him that because he would hover. She didn't need hovering. She needed the fastest way away from the piercing blue eyes that seemed to pity and condemn her at the same time.

"I have left-overs from last night that I can warm up," he pushed the issue. A part of him didn't care if she ate or starved, but a little part of him—the part that still cared—thought she was too thin. But if she didn't care, why should he? _Because you do. You care more than you'll ever admit._

"I'm not really..." Joss started to decline, then changed her mind. If saying yes meant that he wouldn't be sitting across from her, staring intently as though he was lining her up as a hunter would a kill, then she would eat. "Okay, I'll have something," she relented.

Not particularly hungry himself, but knowing that Taylor would be awake shortly, John busied himself with preparing something light. The air was tense while each person waited for the other to speak.

"Guess you won't be flying out today," John remarked casually as he broke the eggs into a bowl and whipped them with a fork. Focusing on the chore kept him from staring at Joss and the fresh-out-of-bed look. It kept him from doing or saying something that could make things worse.

Joss picked at the tattered letter printed on the side of the mug. "Probably not. I should check with the airline, though. See if I can re-book." It was going to cost a fortune, but what was money if it saved her nerves and sanity?

"Cell service is down. I already checked when I woke up. This storm has pretty much shut down everything," John said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Joss sighed. Her plan to escape was thwarted and now she was stuck in the house with the last person she never wanted to be with again.

"Disappointed?" John's tone held just a touch of accusation. He pulled a few more items out of the fridge and set them on the counter.

"I miss my cat." Joss was sure Sameen was taking care of the feline, but she wanted to call and make sure. But there was no way. All she could do was trust that everything was alright.

"I'm sure Fluffy will survive a couple of days without you." John poured the eggs into the pan and stirred them with a wooden spoon. It surprised him that Joss would open her heart to another person—even if that person had four legs and a tail. He felt the flicker of jealousy, so he turned to completing breakfast. Pulling an onion out of the hanging basket, he quickly skinned it and began dicing it.

"Szymanski," Joss corrected.

John looked up from his task. Huh?"

"His name is Szymanski. My cat. That's his name."

John's lips curved in a smile. "That's quite a mouthful. And unique."

A secret smile tugged at Joss's lips. "He's unique. In fact, he saved my life."

Intrigued and startled by the revelation, John stopped chopping and turned around. "Really? When?" His heart nearly skipped at beat at the thought of her being hurt, almost killed. Quickly he tried to tap down his overactive emotions. Besides, what did it matter to him? Except it would have mattered to Sara. He was instantly sobered by the truth.

"About five years ago. I was heading home from work and this car was tailgating me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw this kitten sitting on the sidewalk. Totally random sidewalk on a busy street, but I pulled over and let the car behind me speed past. Not a few seconds later, a huge truck plowed into the car—T-boned it and killed the driver. Had I not seen the kitten, that could have been me." Joss sipped the coffee and tried not to remember the sound of crunching metal and busting glass. Her hands shook as she put the mug down. Something that was not lost on John.

"You saw it all?"

Joss bit her lip, nodded. "Heh. Pretty much happened just a few feet away from where I stood." On hot, humid days she could still smell the putrid stench of gasoline and tire rubber on asphalt. It made her sick to her stomach every time.

"What did you do?" His voice was kind, gentle, as he probed for more information. He could tell she was still shaken, and it took everything he had not to reach over and take her hand in his.

"I threw the kitten in the car and then rushed over to help. The driver of the truck was injured a little, but nothing serious. Typical texting while driving."

"And you named the cat Szymanski after him? The driver who died?" John asked.

"No, after the street sign where I found him. Kind of a tribute to his miracle appearance." One of the fewer than few times she had had her faith restored.

"I'd like to meet him."

"Heh." There was no way that was ever going to happen, but Joss kept her comments to herself. She was stuck in the house with him for the next God only knew how long, and she didn't want to fight.

"The kitchen is warmer than it used to be," Joss said, changing the subject.

"I gutted it a couple of years ago and laid a new foundation. Then I reinforced the walls with material that keeps the heat in, and the cold out. And vice-a-versa. It has cut down on energy consumption."

"Hmmm. Who knew that you would go 'green'."

"Not green; necessity. It was breaking the bank account to heat and cool the house. It's paid off."

"Except for upstairs."

"I plan on tackling that this summer. If things go my way."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. If the will goes the way I think it will, then it really won't matter." John didn't elaborate, but it was apparent that he thought the house wasn't going to be his. The thought was enough to start closing his heart and darken his eyes. The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Joss shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "John, we're going to be stuck here, together, for the next couple of days—or more. I think we should meet halfway."

John shrugged. He took a lid from the cupboard and placed it on the frying pan. "Sure. Anything you say." Now it was his turn to throw up the wall.

"I-I mean it. I'm still going to need to call work and tell them that I won't be flying in tonight."

"Those three days go by fast, don't they?" John asked rhetorically before continuing, "But don't worry, the storm will end and you'll be back in sunny L.A. in no time."

Overwhelmed by the snideness of the remark, Joss pushed back her chair. "I'm going to go freshen up. Maybe put on some warmer clothes," she excused herself. The warm kitchen has suddenly turned chilly.

John watched Joss hurry from the room. He gave himself a mental kick. "Good going, John. Next time don't beat around the bush; just go for the jugular," he muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" Taylor asked from the doorway. His feet were bare and his hair was wild from sleep. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Nothing, sport. I made breakfast, so why don't you go get dressed?"

"We're not going anywhere today, are we?" Taylor asked, disappointed that he already knew the answer.

"Afraid not. Maybe we can play some video games later," John suggested an alternative activity.

"Yeah."

John walked over and rumpled Taylor's hair. "Maybe when the blizzard stops we'll go out and build a snow fort and have a snowball fight," he sweetened the deal.

Taylor smiled at the prospect of spending time with John. "Okay. I'll be down in five."

"Take your time, Taylor."

John leaned back against the counter. He managed to rock the boat with Joss, but he smoothed things out with Taylor. Not quite the happy medium he was shooting for, but the day was still young. And if the storm lasted a little while longer, then maybe he could find a way to meet Joss half-way.

"Two steps back and one step forward." He sipped the now cold coffee.  
******

Huddled under the four-strand thick, crocheted afghan, Joss sat curled up on the recliner with a book. It was a mystery thriller with a page turning plot, but she hadn't quite made it past the first chapter—much less the second page. As much as she tried to concentrate on the words, her attention kept going to the two guys sitting on the coffee table playing the video game.

"Come on. Come on. Come on," Taylor urged the virtual soldier who was running thru the deserted streets of the demolished city. His eyes stared, unblinking, at the plasma screen. "Guy on the wall."

"Got him." John's thumb quickly pressed the small red dot on the hand-held control, disposing of the potential threat. "Bad guy down. Get ready. Here they come."

Gunfire filled the room as John and Taylor put everything they had into conquering the enemy. Simultaneously, they leaned over and hunched themselves as the fighting picked up in intensity. Caught up in the moment, even Joss leaned forward to watch.

Five minutes later, Taylor jumped up and raised his hand for a victory high-five, which John delivered with pride.

"That was great work, Taylor," John praised. His eyes shone with happiness.

"I was scared that I might lose. Especially when I couldn't find you," Taylor confessed.

John raised his fist for a reassuring bump, which Taylor reciprocated. "What are you talking about? I had your six."

"I know. We beat the bad guys."

"Yes, we did." John stood up and turned off the game console. "It's almost time for lunch. If you want to turn on a movie, I'll check on the soup." He rumpled Taylor's hair. He turned to look at Bear. "Come on, boy."

Getting up from the warm bed beside the fireplace, Bear stretched then followed his master. He cast a backwards glance at Joss as if to warn her, then he turned the corner.

Joss closed the book. "What were you playing?" she asked.

"Seal Team Six." Taylor took the DVD out and placed it in the case. Walking over to the bookcase, he shelved it. He ran his finger across the DVDs on the shelf above until he found what he was looking for.

"That's a good game. Intense and almost too realistic, but I like it." She stretched out her legs. It felt good to get the blood flowing again.

Taylor's eyes opened in surprise. "You play STS?" he asked with doubt. She was refined and cold and not very nice—from what he had seen; there was no way she played video games.

"I do. I did," she amended. "A friend of mine bought it a couple of years back, and we played it all the time." Joss stood up, stretched. She turned to pick up a log from the stack and carefully added it to the fire. Grabbing the poker, she stirred the burning logs to make room. The flames licked at the wood a few times before it caught. The sound of snapping and crackling, and the scent of burning wood filled Joss.

She set the fire gate back in place and turned around. For a moment it seemed as though the wall had come down. "Do you want to play a game or two?" she invited, extending a part of the olive branch. A moment later it was back.

"No, thanks," Taylor declined. "I wanna watch a movie."

Thoroughly rebuffed, Joss gave a weak smile. "I didn't mean today. Maybe tomorrow, or another day?"

"I don't know. We may not have a place to stay by then, and you have to go back to California," Taylor replied tonelessly. He pressed the power button to turn on the DVD player and inserted the disc.

Stunned by the remark, Joss tried to think of a comeback. "Well...uh..." And failed.

John came back into the room with a large tray filled with soup bowls and condiments. He set it on the coffee table.

"Soup's on," he announced. "Anything wrong?" He looked at Joss and Taylor. Taylor shrugged.

"Nothing's wrong," Joss replied quickly. She sniffed the air. "That smells good."

"Chicken noodle. Sara's recipe. Here." He handed over the bowls. "Careful, it's hot."

Joss took the bowl and sat back down. "Thanks."

"What are we watching, sport?"

"'Angels In The Outfield'."

"Good choice. I like that one."

"Me too. It's got lots of California in it," Taylor grumbled before he started to slurp his soup.

John looked over at Joss, who had her head down and was intently focused on the contents in her bowl. He shifted his look between each person looking for an answer, but only silence filled the room.

Shrugging, John picked up the remote and hit PLAY. He was curious as to what transpired while he was gone, but until someone fessed up, all he could do was get lost in the movie. Which he did with pleasure.


	10. Chapter 10

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

With expert hands, Lionel guided the custom-made Chevy truck into the driveway. A quick glance confirmed that nothing in the yard had been disturbed, and yet, he suddenly went on alert. Although the common sense part of him knew that nothing was wrong, the guy who knew the situation wasn't so sure.

Parking the truck, he turned off the engine and stepped out into the frigid cold. The wind force had died down, but the snow was still falling and the temperature still hovered in the negative zone. He looked up at the gray sky and prayed for a little sun. Nothing.

On steady, sure feet, Lionel walked up the ice covered path to the porch. His keen hearing listened for anything amiss, but it was quiet. Too quiet. Lifting his fist, he knocked on the screen door. What seemed like an eternity, he heard the dead-bolt turn.

"Lionel, what are you doing here?" John greeted the unexpected guest.

The warm air beaconed him. "May I come inside?" Lionel asked. He tried to peer around John for a glimpse inside the main room, but he was blocked.

"Sure." John stepped aside to let his friend inside. He closed the door to prevent anymore of the precious heat from escaping. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Nah." Lionel assessed the room. Nothing out of place, no blood on the walls. Maybe he had let his imagination go into over-drive. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. "I was just driving by and thought I'd stop and check on you."

John grinned. "Still in one piece, Lionel." Although his heart was still shredded with grief.

Lionel looked over at Taylor who was playing a video game. "Hey, champ. How ya doin'?"

Taylor flicked his gaze upward. "Hey, Uncle Lionel. I'm good." He returned his attention to the Tetris blocks falling like rain on the screen.

"Sam got word that as long as the storm continues, they are going to postpone the court date," Lionel relayed the information. "The water department is advising that with the below zero temps that the old pipes in the courthouse might not be in the best shape."

"That's nice to know," John said, but he felt disappointed. Every day the hearing was postponed, it was another day Taylor's father could arrive back on the scene. It was almost as though the fates were having it in for him. And just when he was so close.

"Hey, cheer up, Wonderboy," Lionel encouraged when he saw the look of emotions flit across his friend's face. "Look at it as another day to find a place..." his voice trailed off as Joss walked in to the room. Their eyes met, held, each daring the other to make the first move. Joss spoke first.

"Hello Lionel. Long time, no see." There was no warmth in her tone. Her eyes were even colder.

"As I live and breathe, it's Joss Carter in the flesh," Lionel replied back with just a hint of snark. He didn't mention that they had passed each other at the funeral luncheon.

"I could say the same...although there's a lot of flesh," Joss observed with a snide smile.

"Plenty of insulation against the cold," he deflected the insult. Twenty years later and there was still no love lost between the two.

Her gaze took in the khaki uniform shirt under the jet black leather jacket. "So, you're a...security guard?"

"Sheriff," Lionel corrected and puffed out his chest for effect.

Joss raised her eyebrows in feigned surprise. "You don't say."

Lionel patted the service weapon holstered at his side. "Well, the badge and gun say otherwise, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart." Joss smiled a saccharin sweet smile.

"What ever you want." Lionel turned to look at John. "Any word from the lawyer?"

"When I can get a cell signal, I'm going to give him a call."

"I think I may have found you a place if this falls through."

"Thanks Lionel." John could feel Joss' eyes burning a hole into his back. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Maybe we won't need it."

"Well, you can't ever be too sure about things: trees bloom in winter...snow comes down in June...prodigal children return. You know, those weird things that can't be explained," Lionel stated matter of factly. Joss shot him a glare that said all she didn't dare to speak aloud.

"I think we'll be fine," John said, trying to diffuse the situation brewing between Joss and Lionel. He prided himself for being in top shape, but he wasn't sure he would have the where-with-all to break them apart should they come to blows.

"Keep it in mind." The air was thick with tension. "Oh, look at the time. I better get going. Gotta go check on Widow Reynolds and take her dogs out."

"That's very kind of you," Joss complimented at the out of character act. She was somewhat impressed.

"Well, she makes a mean snickerdoodle, and I have to pad the insulation. Never know when you might walk into an indoor freezer," Lionel shot back with unveiled snark, leaving Joss speechless.

"I'll walk you to the car," John offered. He grabbed his coat and donned it, then closed the front door behind him.

"Whew! Who would have thought it would be warmer out here?" Lionel asked rhetorically. He drew the cuff of the jacket's neckline up to block the wind. He retraced his earlier steps back to the truck.

"Not saying a word, Lionel."

"She's a tough cookie. Since you're here, let me get that address for you. Oh, and I have something from Zoe." Lionel opened the door of the truck and reached inside for the scrap of paper and the pink bakery box. "Here."

John lifted the lid. "Blueberry scones and Bismarks." The aromatic scent of the pastries tickled his nostrils. He reached in and took a scone out. He bit into it. He could feel his taste-buds dance.

"Better make them last," Lionel cautioned. "If all of this turns to ice, those might be the last you have for a while."

"Then I'll starve to death as a happy man."

"Might want to save some for the Ice Princess; might help thaw her out." Although, Lionel wasn't sure the center part of the sun could thaw out Joss Carter.

"Maybe you shouldn't poke the bear."

"Maybe the bear needs to be poked so that she gets the clue she isn't welcomed," Lionel shot back. He stomped his feet to keep the blood flowing. He swore it was getting colder by the minute.

"Be careful, Lionel. Remember she can hit a bulls-eye from a hundred yards away."

"I'm not afraid of a sling-shot," Lionel declared with more bravado than he actually felt.

"Maybe. But I'm sure she'll be happy to even out that limp of yours. Look, we've had a nice couple of calm days, and Taylor is...settling in around her, so..." John wiped the back of his hand across his brow. "If we can just make it to the will being read, let's not rock the boat."

"Have it your way, John. Still, I wouldn't turn my back on her until you've talked with the lawyer."

"You never know; her moral compass could still be working."

"Yeah, it's set on south, and that's what she'll be kicking down the road when she gets the better of you."

"You may be right, Lionel."

Lionel stepped into the truck, closed the door and started the engine. Before he put the truck in reverse, he rolled down the window and threw an object at John. "Have fun." He eased out of the drive-way, then headed toward his next visit.

Flummoxed, John looked down at his hands at the lighter.  
***************

It had been a long, uneventful day filled with movies and games, followed by an unremarkable dinner and dessert. Now the pair stood side by side cleaning up the kitchen while Taylor read a book in the living room. The soft, sweet sounds of Jim Brickman's piano filled the house.

"What did Lionel mean when he said he had something lined up for you?" Joss inquired as she dried the plate in the drain rack, then placed it in the cupboard. She reached for another.

John considered playing dumb, then decided against it. "A rental for Taylor and myself."

"A rental?"

"When we move." John swiped the dishcloth across the china surface with more force than necessary, before rinsing it and setting it in the rack.

"I'm sorry," Joss replied, although she wasn't sure what she was apologizing for. After all, the house was old and in need of repairs that would cost more than it would to rebuild. She couldn't understand John's attachment to a structure. Besides, it was her house to do with as she pleased. She was a Carter; he was a Reese.

John's voice was flat as he replied, "You're sorry?"

"John, I—"

"Don't, Joss."

"I was going to say that I never meant for this to happen."

The silence was deafening as John finished the dishes, drained the sink, rinsed it out, then hung the dishcloth to dry.

"You never meant for this to happen," he parroted, but his anger lay just below the surface. "What exactly did you expect to happen, Joss?"

"Look, John, the house isn't exactly in the best shape. The shingles are old, and the roof needs to be replaced. I'm sure the central air needs updating, not to mention the porch has more weak spots than thin ice," she pointed out all the flaws. "How much did it cost you to redo the kitchen?"

"That's none of your business." John was uncomfortable that she would use the house against him.

"I can pay you back all you spent, and more."

"I don't want the money, Joss."

"I don't believe that, but I'm doing you a favour by taking it off your hands. It's what Sara would have wanted."

"How do you know what Sara would have wanted?" John evenly asked.

"I'm her granddaughter."

"And I'm her best friend. She wanted the house to go to someone who loved it as much as she did."

"It's a dilapidated farmhouse that will cost more to restore than to replace," Joss argued.

"You mean: tear it down and put something brand new in its place," John snorted.

Joss sighed. "Yes," she confirmed.

"The foundation is sound."

"The house is sick, John; it's over a hundred years old!"

"Buckingham Palace is too."

Joss gave him a quizzical look. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It's two-hundred and forty years old."

"And...?"

"It's in perfect working order."

"It's a castle made of stone and mortar, John."

"At least you know your architect."

"What do you think I received my degree in?" she stated with frustration clearly in her voice.

"I don't know, Joss. I don't know anything about you other than you have some rich, cushy job in Los Angeles, and you own a cat that seems to get more love than you gave a woman who missed you every single day of her life."

Fury raged thru Joss' body making her see red. The urge to reach out and slap John nearly consumed her, until she heard her grandmother's voice in the back of her mind.

"How. Dare. You," her voice trembled with emotion so strong she was shaking. The plate slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor.

"Let us have the house, Joss. Let me finish repairing it and make it something special."

"There is nothing special about this house," Joss hoarsely whispered. She tried to take deep breaths to ease the pain in her heart.

"Maybe not to you, but I think so. Taylor does, too."

"The land is worth a fortune."

"What is money without love? Family?"

Joss turned to face him. "Like you would know, John. If memory serves correctly, you ran away the moment you could get yourself free. Or did you forget?"

"I didn't forget, but at least I didn't have to be dragged back kicking and screaming." He took a deep breath, let it out. "Joss, rent it to me."

"No."

"Sub-let?"

"No."

"Buy it."

That caused her to give a wry laugh. "With what? Your good looks?" she dismissed him with a snort.

"It gets scones," he grinned.

"Oh, yeah. There's the property tax. I'm sure Zoe will bake you whatever you need to pay off the bill collectors," she didn't bother to hide her sarcasm.

"Jealous much?"

"Of Zoe?! No!"

"Next time, say it like you mean it."

"I always mean what I say."

"Okay, then stop being so damn stubborn and let me have the house."

"You have another lined up."

For the first time in a long time, John wanted to strangle his best friend.

"It's not a sure thing."

"Neither is this."

"Well, maybe the snow will stop and we'll get the will read," John chirped.

Joss picked up the shards and threw them into the wastebasket. "I knew I shouldn't have come back," she muttered. "I would rather be anywhere but here."

"Well, if that isn't the most honest thing you've said since you arrived." Before she could reply, John pulled on his coat and gloves and walked to the back door. "I'll let you finish up the dishes."

Joss stood with her hands on her hips. "Where are you going?"

"I have to check on the livestock. If you have forgotten, they live here too." Without another word, John opened the door, then slammed it hard behind him.

From the window, Joss watched John head toward the barn until he was swallowed by the darkness. Leaning her head against her fist, she took a deep breath to calm herself. But the tears flowed anyway.

"God help me."


	11. Chapter 11

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

"Is she going to chase us out?" Taylor asked as he helped pitch the old hay to the side of the barn. Although the pitchfork was taller than him, he wielded it like a pro. Even though it was bone-chilling cold, he didn't mind being outdoors and doing hard work.

"Is who?"

"Sara's granddaughter."

"I don't think so," John replied but he wasn't sure. All night he had tossed and turned, replaying their conversation in the kitchen. He could still hear the emotion in her voice, yet he couldn't understand why she was being so bull-headed about letting the house go.

"It doesn't mean anything to her, does it?"

"I don't know, sport." John tried to concentrate on the task, but his thoughts were anywhere but in the barn.

"Can you fight her?"

"Probably not." What was left to fight for? Sara was gone, the house was almost gone, and then Taylor would be as good as gone. And when all was said and done, Joss would be gone, too, never to come back.

"But possession is nine-tenths of the law," Taylor retorted. Impressed, John leaned against the pitchfork and grinned.

"What do you know about that?"

Taylor shrugged. "I read it in a book last night. It's true. We have 'squatting rights'."

"It's 'squatter's rights'," John corrected. "But I know what you mean. We have that on our side, but when the will is read, it may not matter." He didn't have the heart to tell Taylor that the nine-tenths law was not a law but a logical use of force passed down through the ages. It wasn't a guarantee.

"When's that going to happen?"

"I don't know." At that exact moment John's phone rang. Startled by the unexpectedness of the call, he answered it. "John Reese."

"Hello, Mr. Reese. My name is Harold Finch. I am the estate lawyer for Sara Carter. I have all of the paperwork ready if you and Ms. Carter would like to come to my office." Distinct, precise tone. John thought he might like him already.

"Okay. When would be a good time?"

"I'm free for the rest of the day."

John looked down at his watch. "Two o'clock?"

"That would be fine, Mr. Reese. Please bring Taylor with you, and I will alert my receptionist of the appointment."

"Thank you Mr. Finch." John disconnected the call. "Well, what do you know...?" he muttered to himself.

Taylor looked up with wide eyes. "Is that about the will?"

John let out a heavy breath. "It sure was. We need to be there by two. Which means we need to shower and change into something more suitable." He leaned the pitchfork against the wall. "Tell you what, why don't you run inside and get ready, and I will finish up out here, okay?"

"Do you want me to tell her?"

"Tell me what?" Joss asked from the front door of the barn.

John took the tool from Taylor's hands. "Run along." Without further urging, Taylor sped out of the barn toward the house. Bear followed close at his feet.

"What was that about?" Joss wondered.

"The lawyer called about Sara's will. Seems he wants to read it today."

"You don't say."

"We need to be there at two."

Joss gave him a disapproving look. "Dressed like that?"

"I wouldn't be caught dead wearing my best outfit to such an important meeting," John mocked. "I thought I'd wear a suit."

"Wow. Sara did manage to cultivate you and tame your neanderthal ways," Joss chided without much feeling.

"Miracles happen."

"What do you expect?" Joss carefully asked to change the subject.

"Hard to tell. Sara was an enigma when it came to certain areas of her life."

The slight jab wasn't lost on Joss. "She never mentioned anything about...anything?"

"Other than wanting to see you again; how you were faring; and wanting us to be happy...? No."

"Oh."

"How's your cat?"

"I don't know. I haven't called Sameen."

"Sameen?"

"My receptionist—best friend. She's taking care of my place until I get back."

"Well, the phones are working. Give her a call," John suggested. "I have to get back inside. We have three hours to get ready and make it to Erie." Without another word, he turned on his heel and followed the path back to the house.

"At least it's eight in the morning in L.A." Joss shivered as a blast of cold air swept over her. "And probably eighty degrees, too."  
******

At precisely two o'clock, the trio walked into the expensive office suite of Ingram & Finch. The waiting area was warm and inviting, yet intimidating at the same time. Expensive paintings hung on the walls, and, although John was not expert in art deco, he would bet the farm that it was an original copy of Rodin's "The Kiss" sitting in the corner. Even the furniture was of Italian design.

The petite redhead sitting at the polished oak desk, looked up. Her smile was broad and welcoming.

"You must be Mr. Finch's two o'clock appointment. I'll let him know you're here." Lifting the receiver, she punched a button. "Mr. Finch, they're here." A pause. "I'll send them in." She set the receiver down. "Follow me."

She led the way toward the closed door, knocked lightly, then turned the knob.

"Truce until we know the results?" John muttered low under his breath for only Joss's ears.

"Agreed."

"He's ready to see you." She opened the door wide for the trio to walk inside. She closed the door.

Taylor looked around at the expensively designed office with large windows and the latest technology on the massive desk. On the walls hung framed pictures of all eight wonders of the world, with personal pictures darted in between. The carpet was plush and soft and helped set the mood.

"Mr. Reese. Ms. Carter," Harold Finch greeted as he stood up. Not too tall, hair cropped short, he was a slender man of average looks, and the large round frame glasses seemed to big for his face. But his suit was expensive and well tailored—even the creases were perfect, and his shoes were polished to a high gloss. He demeanor may have shouted meek, but his handshake indicated that there was power lying just below the surface.

"And you must be Taylor. Would any of you like something to drink?" Harold offered.

"We're fine, thank you," Joss declined.

"Can I have a Coke?" Taylor shyly asked.

"Yes, you may." Harold walked over to the corner and opened the well-concealed fridge. He extracted the soda can and handed it to Taylor.

"Thank you." Taylor popped the top and took a sip.

Harold stood behind the desk. "Please have a seat," he offered with a gesture toward the expensive leather chairs lined in front of the mahogany desk. He waited for everyone to settle in. "I'm sure you are all anxious to find out what Sara Carter's intentions were, I assume?" He sat down and opened a couple of folders. "Your grandmother was a wonderful woman."

"Thank you," Joss murmured.

"She had specific intentions for her possessions—mainly the house. She wanted someone who could love it and cherish it the way she had." Harold pulled out Sara's Last Will & Testament. Clearing his throat, he read the words aloud: "'I, Sara Margaret Carter, do hereby declare that I am of sound mind and this is my last will and testament.'" Harold's eyes skipped over the page. "She bequeathed certain monies and objet d'arts to friends and her alma mater."

"Sounds like Sara," John said with a knowing smile.

"What about the house?" Joss interrupted.

"To my adopted great-grand-godson Taylor, I leave the sum of ten thousand dollars to be held in trust until he reaches the age of twenty-five. I appoint John Benjamin Reese to be the executor of said trust. However, should he be unable to perform those duties, my granddaughter, Jocelyn Margaret Carter is to assume the responsibility."

Wide-eyed at the windfall, Taylor whispered, "Ten-thousand dollars?!"

"Can't touch it until you're twenty-five, sport," John gently reminded.

Harold continued, "'To my granddaughter, Jocelyn Margaret Carter, I leave my love and forgiveness." He flicked his gaze upward at Joss's flummoxed look. "'To John Benjamin Reese, I leave my thanks and love."

"What about the house?" Joss repeated. Had they really braved a blizzard and driven across ice-covered roads to hear about inheriting love and thanks?

"The house... yes. 'I leave my home, the house that has been in my family for a hundred years, to Jocelyn Margaret Carter...'" Harold read. He watched as victory lit up her eyes. "And to John Benjamin Reese," he finished.

"What?!" Joss exclaimed. There had to be some mistake, right? This couldn't be happening.

"Looks like we both get it."

"There must be some mistake. He's not even family."

"Family is more than blood."

"There is more," Harold interrupted the heated discussion developing. "'I know that there will be questions, but I have faith in Joss and John to work things out. I made many mistakes, but I am trying to do right and rectify them. That is why I am leaving the house to both of them. If they want to sell, they must contact the other first before the sale is final. However, there is a caveat.'"

"Caveat? Oh, this has to be good," scoffed Joss.

"'All parties must live together until Christmas...'"

"Christmas?!" Joss and John exclaimed together in surprise. They looked at each other, then at Harold.

"'...if at that time they have not settled their differences, the land and house will be donated to the preservation society.'"

"Preservation society?" Joss echoed. "What is going on?"

"Sara wants us to meet half-way."

"Half-way? I have a job I need to get back to," Joss stated hotly. "I have responsibilities."

"And you have them here, too."

"This coming from a guy who doesn't have a job." Joss crossed her arms over her chest.

"Low blow, Joss."

Harold held up his hand. "If I may interrupt. Ms. Carter, I hope you don't mind, but I took it upon myself to look into your employment history."

"Nothing surprises me anymore," she groused.

"And I noticed that you have more than a month of vacation on the books."

"What?"

"I contacted your employer—a one Alonzo Quinn—and informed him that due to a personal family matter, you would need to take that vacation time."

Joss gave a short laugh. "I have a serious closing on a deal that I need to finish."

"It closed." Harold handed over the folder with the documents. Joss took the folder but she didn't open it.

"It...closed?"

"Your presentation was superb. In fact, the seller and buyer negotiated on the same day you flew out here, and the groundbreaking begins the day after Christmas," Harold said with a smile.

"I..." Joss couldn't find the right words to say anything.

"It's only thirty days," John tried to reason.

"Thirty two," Harold piped up. He was watching with intense interest at the bickering pair sitting across from him. He still had his reservations as to where they fit in Sara's plan, but she had paid him handsomely, and he owed her to see everything to the end.

"You're saying that for thirty two days I'm going to be stuck in the house with _him_?" Joss sputtered in disbelief. It was as though all of her bad luck was finally coming back to haunt. There had to be a way out of this, and quick.

"You could forfeit," Harold offered the out, "that's an option."

"Then what happens?" Joss asked.

Harold shrugged. "Well, we just move everything up by thirty two days. The house gets turned over and you get to go back to L.A."

Joss wrung her hands. It was so tempting to turn around and walk away without a backwards glance. She could shake off the last ten days and get on with her life as though nothing ever happened. She could say good-bye to little Joss Carter forever. However...

He walked back into her life for a reason. There was still a score to settle with him, and to leave—no matter how it devastated him—would still cause her to lose. No, she was stronger and her hurt was too deep. She would show him that crossing Jocelyn Carter was the worst move ever. Then she would get the house, clear the land, and go back to L.A. with a clean conscience. Maybe it wasn't her smartest move, but it would be worth it to wipe that smirk off of John Reese's face.

Joss uncrossed her legs and sat up straighter in the chair. Throwing a side-ways glance at her rival, she pasted on her most professional smile—the one that stood in front of CEOs and told them what they didn't want to hear but still got her what she was bargaining for.

"I'll take the deal, Mr. Finch. Just remember to draw up the paperwork for me to sign because in thirty two days the house will be mine."

Impressed, Harold raised his eyebrow. "Mr. Reese?"

His smirk turned into a grin. "You got yourself a deal, Joss."

Then they shook on it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

"Good morning. Jocelyn Carter's office. This is Sameen speaking. How may I help you?"

"Good morning Sameen," Joss greeted. "How's my cat?"

Sameen stopped spinning around in her office chair. "Joss! I've been hoping you would call. How are you?"

"Cold." _That_ was the understatement of the century!

"I was watching on the news about the freak snow storm that hit that area. I had hoped you would be heading back here," Sameen confessed with no desire to hide her feelings.

"Heh. Not for a while." _Not for a loooong while,_ Joss finished to herself.

Sameen furrowed her brow at the news. "I thought everything was cut-n-dry. What happened?"

"The will happened." Joss sighed. "My grandmother had the last say. It's...complicated."

"When are you coming home?"

"Thirty two days."

Sameen glanced at the calendar and did the mental math. "That's the day before Christmas," she nearly exclaimed in surprise before recalculating. Nope, she had it correct the first time.

"It is."

"What about your job here?"

"Apparently I did such a great job on the latest deal that I earned myself some time off," Joss grumbled at the thought of having nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs and watch the snow fall.

"I heard. The whole office is talking about what a great job you did. I know you're going to get 'Employee of The Year'," Sameen teased.

"Well, until then I'm on vacation for the next month."

Sameen picked up the pen and began doodling on the notepad. "Wow. A month. What are you going to do?" she inquired.

"I don't know. Got any ideas?"

"Go out and party."

"Nothing here like that, and I don't want to drive to Erie."

"How else are you going to meet a nice guy?"

"I don't want to meet a guy," Joss replied simply.

"I said a _nice_ guy."

"Nice or otherwise, the answer is still no."

"What's his name?"

"What's whose name?" Joss asked stupidly.

"The man you already met."

"W-what are you talking about?" Joss tried to evade answering.

"You're saying you haven't met a man?" Sameen asked in disbelief at the way her boss was avoiding the question.

Joss debated lying, but then thought better of it. "Okay, I have. Sort of," she admitted reluctantly and tried to suppress the groan.

Sameen grinned broadly. "Ah ha! I knew it!"

"It's not like that; he was helping my grandmother with the property," Joss tried to explain quickly to correct any misconceptions her receptionist was entertaining.

Sameen leaned back in the chair and twirled the pencil between her fingers. "Ah, a handyman. What's he like?"

"He's a pain in my backside." Amongst other things, Joss thought to herself as she felt her blood pressure rise.

"But he's good-looking?" Sameen fished for any information about Joss's grandmother's handyman.

"I'm not answering that," Joss answered hotly.

"So, he is."

"Sameen!"

"You said it, I didn't," Sameen defended herself. "All I did was ask. I'll bet he's gorgeous. Tall, dark, dreamy eyes..." She sighed at the mental picture her brain was creating.

"Don't you have some work to do?" Joss asked.

"Not really. Besides, even if I did, this is much more interesting," Sameen purred.

"I think I can find something for you to do."

"You could, if you were here. But you're not. Does he have a name?"

Joss groaned a sigh. "John."

"Wow. I'm...impressed." Not. Sameen looked around, then lowered her voice to ask, "Is he better looking than Cal?"

"He's...pleasant enough on the eyes," Joss grudgingly admitted without admitting to anything.

"Heh. Speaking of the devil, guess who just walked in. Do you want to talk to him?"

Joss shook her head. "No. Tell Cal I'll call him later. Get back to work; I'm sure there is a stack of files needing attention," she quickly replied. Something that was not lost on the intuitive receptionist.

"Gosh, you're a workhorse even when you're not here."

"Think about it, Sameen. Who knows, in ten years you'll be where I am."

"Oooo, lucky me. Bring me back some Amish apple butter."

"Will do. Bye."

"Bye."

Joss ended the call.

"Pretty interesting conversation," John drawled. Joss turned around to see her roommate leaning against the door frame. He had changed out of his suit and was now wearing old jeans, a t-shirt and ragged plaid flannel shirt. "How _is_ the cat doing?"

"I thought you had given up your habit of eavesdropping." Joss turned toward the fridge and opened the door. She wasn't particularly hungry but looking at the items kept her eyes off of John.

"Some habits are hard to break. Who's Sameen?"

"My receptionist." Joss pulled out the gallon of milk, put it back. "She's taking care of Szymanski."

"She sounds...dependable, albeit a bit intrusive into your personal life," he remarked dryly. "Although I can't recall her relaying how little puss is faring without his mistress."

"She's nosy that way—like some other people I know." Joss took out the Tupperware container, shook it, opened it, then wrinkled her nose. "I think this went bad." She thrust it at John.

"Thanks for finding it." John sauntered over. The scent of his cologne was subtle yet powerful enough to make Joss's knees go weak. He took the container and placed it in the sink.

"They miss me at work." It was only a half-truth, but he didn't need to know anything more.

"Even Cal?"

"None of your business," Joss dismissed before grabbing the gallon of orange juice and abruptly closed the fridge door.

"Boss? Boyfriend?" John threw out the possible links to Joss. "Something more?" He didn't try to hide the implication.

"You were never this nosy when we were kids." She set the jug on the table with a thud.

"Yes, I was," he contradicted. "You forgot."

"I didn't forget, John. I was just trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. My mistake—again."

"If you love him and you're happy with him..." He didn't want to think about Joss being happy with anyone.

"We're happy." Joss reached for a glass. John reached around her and grabbed it first. He handed it to her.

"Here."

"Thanks." Joss poured the juice to the rim and took a sip. Tart and bitter, it wasn't exactly what she had been craving, but it was going to have to do until she could get to the store. A nice, chilled Chardonnay was what she wanted—along with being curled up beside the fireplace with soft music on.

"I'm making coffee." John took down the coffee container and prepared the grounds. A couple of minutes later the sound of the water percolating filled the room. The fresh brewed scent tickled Joss's nose.

"I'll stick with this, thanks," Joss declined. "I want to sleep tonight."

"Good luck. There is another storm moving in." John opened the freezer and took out a couple of items. He reached into the cupboard for a large, deep frying pan. He set it on the stove and turned on the burner.

"Great. I could be in Los Angeles right now soaking up the sun," Joss grumbled.

"You strike me as a sun-worshiper," John quipped as he busily prepared the evening meal. "Toes in the sand, soaking up the rays on the beach, braving the surf," he listed off.

"Nothing wrong with wanting to avoid blizzards and ice," Joss said over the rim of the glass.

"Seventy degrees in winter isn't normal."

"I guess some people like to wait to see if there is going to be snow falling on the first day of summer, or if it's going to be too cold to go picnic at the peninsula on the Fourth," Joss said and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's not normal."

"Well, neither are mudslides and fires every year. Besides, I like having four seasons in a year."

"You say that like you mean it. Think about it, John. You are missing out on some of the most beautiful scenery so you can be stuck in the boonies." She lifted the lid on the cookie jar in the middle of the table and pulled out a few cookies.

"I've been places more beautiful than California," he remarked without turning around. "And I've been to places more remote than the boonies."

Joss gave a small scoff. "Sure. Where?"

"Richmond, Australia; and Naval Station McMurdo, Antartica," he replied simply. The knife blade made a dull thud against the wooden cutting board.

"Wow," Joss replied, chastened by the information. "That is definitely in the middle of nowhere. And colder."

"This is a cake walk." John tossed the vegetables in the pan and stirred.

"I didn't know."

"Eh. Not my worst duty stations, but they helped in my advancement. Although, when all was said and done, it was for naught anyway, so what does it matter?" John asked rhetorically.

"So, you came back here?"

"Nowhere else to go. Sarah needed me, and I thought I might put some of my training to use. The fields were overgrown and the tractor was in need of repairs. Plus the handyman she hired tried to bilk her out of her life savings." He stirred with a wooden spoon and placed the lid on top. He turned around. "Lionel took care of it."

Joss felt anger and sadness at the same time. Her nails dug into the tabletop. "I didn't know."

John shrugged. "It's been taken care of, Joss. Nothing to worry about."

"But how—the money for Taylor's trust fund?"

John poured himself a cup of coffee. He shook his head. "I don't know. She never said a word to me. But knowing Sarah, she had a back-up."

Joss took a deep breath. "What are we going to do for a month? We've had ten days and nearly came to blows," she pointed out matter of factly.

"I have lived under worse conditions."

"I can imagine. But against your will?"

"I'm a survivor."

She had no doubt that he was, but that still didn't answer the question why he decided to chuck a military career and come back to Pennsylvania to help out a woman who wasn't related to him. And it didn't explain why he was single and taking care of a young boy who wasn't his. She had so many questions but didn't know where to begin asking.

"Can we call a truce?" John asked earnestly. "I know these next few weeks are going to be anything but heaven on earth, but I want us to bury the hatchet for Taylor's sake."

"I guess we could," Joss agreed. She stuck out her hand to seal the promise. John shook it. "I was wondering—and you can say no, but I don't think Taylor should be sleeping on the couch. He can sleep in his room and I will take the couch."

"What about your clothes?"

"I don't have much; what I do have I can store in the hall closet."

"It's a pretty uncomfortable couch."

"I've slept on airplanes, so it shouldn't be a problem. It's something I want to do."

John smiled a small smile. "I'm sure that Taylor would love to have his room back." He stood up. "I think I'll make a pineapple upside-down cake for dessert."

Joss laughed shortly. "You know the way to a woman's heart." She stood up and stretched. "I should charge my phone before the next storm hits. Let me know when dinner's ready so I can set the table, okay?"

John waited for her to leave the kitchen before he let out his breath. "I feel that it's going to take more than a cake to get to her heart," he muttered to himself. He just prayed it wasn't true.


	13. Chapter 13

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

"Storm's over. I'm heading to town if anyone wants to go," John announced to the pair sitting in the living room. Inconspicuously he tucked his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Thank you," Joss said out loud and set her book on the end table. There were more than a couple of things she desperately needed to get, and a few others she needed to replenish. Plus there was one thing she really wanted to get—even if John didn't think it was necessary.

"What about you, sport? You need to get anything?" John asked.

Taylor set the game remote down. "I guess a couple of things." He seemed a little reluctant to join in the happiness of getting out of the house.

"Well, it will do us all some good to shake off this cabin fever. Go get ready and meet me by the truck in ten minutes, okay?" John lovingly ruffled Taylor's hair. He watched Taylor run upstairs.

"The snow is pretty deep," Joss observed with concern, glancing out the window at the high snow drifts. It wasn't that she didn't want to escape the house—she did!—but she didn't want to risk her life doing so. "Are you really going to hit the roads?"

"Don't have much choice, Joss." Driving so soon have a major snow storm was not what he had had planned, but sometimes priorities outweighed common sense.

Joss watched the look cross John's face. She lowered her voice. "Is this about Taylor?"

"Yeah, it is," he replied in a grim tone but didn't elaborate.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Not until I know what's going on. I'm going to change my clothes. I'll be back down in a couple of minutes." John hurried up the stairs, leaving Joss to stand in the middle of the living room.

"Twenty-nine days and counting," she said to no one in particular.  
******

John pulled the truck up beside the curb and turned off the ignition. Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out a couple of bills and handed them to Taylor.

"Here. Go to Zoe's and waited for me there."

"Can I get a hot chocolate?" Taylor asked.

"Get anything you want." He waited for Taylor to exit the truck, watching with an eagle's eye as the young boy walked inside the '"Sweet Treats-n-S'mores" store. He looked at Joss. "What are your plans?"

"A little shopping. Nothing much else. Do you want me to go with you?" Joss offered, although she wasn't sure what exactly she was offering.

"Not your concern."

"I can help."

"I don't need a property developer, Joss," he declined with a sardonic tone, "but thanks for the offer. I have someone who can help."

"Lionel?" she asked with a scoff of disbelief.

"He's not half as bad as you give him credit," John defended his friend.

"He was a thug. Remember how he stole the answers to the French quiz?"

"That doesn't make him dirty."

"No, but the fact that he sold copies of the answers for twenty dollars a pop, does."

John sighed, his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. "He's highly respected now. Everyone has forgotten about the French Connection."

Indignant by the apparently blind eye John had for the portly Sheriff, Joss crossed her arms over her chest.

"I suppose you've forgotten that he used to run with Stills and Simmons," she huffed angrily.

"We all take the fork in the road; doesn't mean it defines us for the rest of our lives."

"So I'm not supposed to remember the graffitied barn on Old Man Lynch's farm? Or the too many to count mailboxes used for batting practice? Or the—"

"And if you had stuck around you would have watched how Sheriff Sullivan took Lionel under his wing and saved him in the nick of time," John interrupted her rant. "And you would have known that Stills and Simmons went from misdemeanor petty crimes to big time felonies. Apparently they were hired by Don Griffoni to take over partnerships from 'business associates'. A couple of undercover cops got killed. Last I heard they were doing thirty-five to life without parole."

Joss absorbed the information. "He's still a fungus."

"Even fungus has a purpose," John replied matter of factly. Joss gave him a flummoxed look. "They taste great on pizza."

He opened the door.

"Go get your shopping done while I take care of what I have to with Lionel."

Joss watched John cross the street and disappear inside a building. Bear whimpered in the backseat.

"I guess that told me what I needed to know." She opened the door and stepped out into the bitter cold. "Okay, Joss, let's go do some shopping."  
*******

"Good afternoon John," Samantha Groves-Fusco greeted from behind her desk buried under stacks of files. "Have a seat. I need a partner to get through all of these files. Know anyone looking for a job in Legal Aid?"

"Can't help you there, Sam." John could tell by the look on her face that something had gone wrong with the case. "Lionel told me to get down here. What's wrong?"

Sam sighed. "Everything."

"Did they find Paul?"

"Right now, that's the least of our concerns." She took opened the file on her desk. "Seems that Protective Services is moving their petition to get Taylor out of your custody by deeming you a danger to his well-being," she said.

John tried to comprehend the accusation. "What does that mean? I'm a danger, how?"

"Apparently your two tours in Iraq and then being diagnosed with PTSD is causing concern and they feel that you might have an 'episode' and harm Taylor." Samantha sat down on the corner of the desk.

"I've been in therapy; I have Bear; I've been working on the farm..." He listed off the positive attributes.

Samantha shook her head. "I know that. You know that. It's the way the system works."

"So, what's the problem?"

"Nothing that I can see. But—"

"I'm providing a roof over his head, food on the table, and home-schooling him," John interrupted to continue listing his achievements.

"I know," Samantha agreed.

"He's getting straight A's, and the nightmares are almost gone."

"But not entirely."

"It's been a little rough since Sara's sudden and unexpected passing—which none of us had any control over. But he hasn't regressed, if that's what you're worried about."

Samantha placed her hand on her chest defensively. "It's not me, John; it's the people who have the power to take him and put him in a foster home."

"He wouldn't make it, Sam," John stated vehemently. "Everything—everything that Sara and I accomplished would be destroyed if they take him. I'm the only family he knows."

"And you're single."

"Not by choice. Okay, by choice, but not by design. I haven't met the right woman," he protested in his defense.

Samantha's eyes were full of compassion and understanding. "And you're soon to be homeless, John."

"Not entirely true."

"What do you mean? Lionel said..."

"The will was read. Sara left the house to me...and her granddaughter," he finished with some reluctance.

"Her granddaughter? You mean Joss Carter?" Samantha appeared to be taken aback by the news.

Now it was John's turn to appear surprised. "You know Joss?"

"Every—" The phone rang. Samantha picked up the receiver and spoke into it. "Groves Legal Aid. Samantha Groves-Fusco speaking." She paused while the voice on the other end spoke. "I see. When? What time?" She wrote the information down quickly. "I'll let him know. Thank you." She replaced the receiver.

"I'm going to guess that wasn't good news."

"The court date is set for Monday."

Fear gripped John. "This Monday? That's three days before Thanksgiving." That had to have some hidden meaning, right? He tried to remain calm.

"I don't set the rules or schedule, John. But if it's any comfort, it's just a hearing to see how you and Taylor have been faring since Sara died." She knew that familiar look and tried to give comfort.

"But they could take him away." John felt his stomach sour at the thought of possibly losing his son.

"Let's not put the cart before the horse," she tried to placate him. "When the judge sees that Taylor is thriving, he's sure to give the extension. We do have five days."

John closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. "Okay."

"But still, I have to warn you that the system isn't kind to single male custodial parents. They are going to paint you every shade of bad and unfit. We have to have all of our ducks in a row. Understood?"

"Understood." It was going to take every bit of strength he had not to lose it. Maybe he could go for a run when he got home. Or maybe take a few turns at the punching bag in the basement.

"Are you and Taylor coming over for Thanksgiving?" Samantha asked.

"I don't know," John replied honestly. Right now he couldn't think past Monday.

"Lionel is making his famous Turducken," Samantha tried to sweeten the deal.

"Heh. We'll see." Food was the absolute last thing on John's mind. Besides, if Monday turned out horribly, could there be a Thanksgiving?

"I'll set two places just in case." The phone rang. "Ugh! It's like grand central station around here. I'll see you Monday." Samantha answered the phone with one hand and waved a good-bye with the other.

In a daze by the new development, John walked out of the building to the sidewalk. He didn't notice anything other than the pain in his heart. But his feet seemed to know where he needed to go, and before he knew it, he was opening the door to Zoe's store.

Zoe looked up when the bell over the door jingled. "Hi John! Are you okay?" she asked with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"I just pulled a fresh batch of cranberry-vanilla rum muffins out of the oven," she whispered conspiratorially. "How about I get you one and a cup of coffee?"

"Sure. Thanks. Is Taylor here?" John's eyes searched the room.

"He's in the corner. I have him cutting out snowflakes for the window." Zoe patted John on the arm tenderly. "Go sit."

John made his way over to the booth in the corner. He looked at the small mound of super-fine white paper that had been turned into snowflakes.

"Hi."

"Hey, John."

"I see you got a job."

"Yeah," Taylor shrugged. "Zoe said she'd pay me twenty-five cents for each one."

John grinned. "Where do I sign up?" He took the seat beside Taylor.

"You'll have to ask."

"Snowflakes are fun to cut, but I have another job in mind for you," Zoe said slyly as she walked up with the dessert plate and coffee on a tray.

"Depends on the payment."

"I would pay you in cash, but I know that would be an insult," Zoe said, placing the muffin and coffee on the table. "How does a dozen cinnamon-cranberry-walnut muffins and two cranberry apple pies sound?"

"Hmmm...you drive a hard bargain. Three dozen. What do you need done?"

"Ah. Renegotiating. Well, Hanging the Christmas lights, setting up the Christmas tree... And building a manger scene for the corner?"

John rubbed his chin between his forefinger and thumb. "Throw in a Devil's Food pudding cake and we'll call it a deal."

"You drive a hard bargain, John," Zoe hedged before agreeing with a soft laugh. "Tuesday? Maybe get them up before Thanksgiving?"

"I'll be here." The bell over the door jingled. John looked up to see Joss enter, a half dozen large bags were in her hands.

"Hi, Joss," Zoe greeted. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"That would be nice, thank you." Joss set the bags down beside the booth and took the seat opposite John. "That's interesting," she observed politely. "What is it?"

"Snowflakes," Taylor muttered. He eyed the bags out of the corner of his eye. That many bags meant that she was going to stay, and staying meant only one thing. Maybe he needed to write that letter to Santa Claus—but first he would have to believe in the man.

"I used to do that when I was your age." Joss reached over to take a piece of paper, but Taylor put his hand over it. Joss looked up at John, who shook his head.

"Well...um," she tried to find something to say. "I did some shopping. I had to buy a few things—since we're going to be together for a while. I bought new mattress set."

Both John and Taylor looked up in surprise.

"I like the couch, but I thought..." The silence grew heavy. "I need a place to sleep," she finished weakly.

"I see."

Zoe appeared, cutting off further conversation. "There you go, Joss. I brought you a muffin, too."

"I didn't—"

"I'll put it on John's tab. However, I may have to throw in decorating the tree, too. I'll be seeing you on Tuesday. You too, Taylor. I'm going to need _plenty_ of snowflakes." She tossed a wink toward the men.

"Yes, ma'am," Taylor replied with his head ducked down.

"Back to work." Zoe turned on her heel and headed back to the kitchen.

Joss couldn't miss the look that passed between John and Zoe, and she felt a weird sensation fill her stomach—like nothing she could remember before. But she knew she didn't like it.

"Let's finish, then we'll go pick up your mattress, Joss."

Joss forced a smile. "Sure, John," she replied hollowly. John gave her a quizzical look before turning his attention to the muffin. Whatever was bothering her, he was sure he would hear about it later. But first, he wanted to enjoy his dessert.


	14. Chapter 14

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

The sound in the courtroom was low as people talked amongst each other or to themselves. Others were busily texting or playing games. Over the double doors, the clock ticked off the seconds until the court proceedings would begin. Two minutes and counting.

John walked down the aisle between the benches to the first row. Dressed impeccably in a suit and tie, his appearance belied the nervous tension inside tying his stomach into knots. He stopped at the first row.

"Hi Samantha," he greeted with fake cheerfulness.

Samantha turned around in the chair at the long table, removed her glasses. "Hey John. Hi Taylor," she said happily to the little boy dressed to match his guardian.

"Hi Miss Samantha," Taylor said in a tiny voice. His fingers itched to scratch, but he had promised John to not fidget. He didn't want the judge to look at him in a weird way. No, it could wait until they got home, he told himself.

"Now, no need to be nervous. The judge is going to ask how you're doing and if you like living with John," she said. Her smile was sweet and reassuring.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You look very handsome, Taylor," she complimented. "Do you remember what to say?"

Taylor nodded. "Yes."

"Okay. Here comes the bailiff," she said under her breath. A short, non-descriptive, bespectacled uniformed man walked into the courtroom. Immediately, quiet filled the room.

"Anyone with cell phones or electronic devices are instructed to turn them off now, or be held in contempt of court. Please remove all gum and items from your mouth," the bailiff stated in an authoritative tone that left absolutely no room for argument. Dozens of people hurried to accommodate the request.

The clock struck nine.

"All rise! The court has come to session! The Honorable Samuel L. Gates presiding!" the bailiff called out in a clear voice. Everyone rose as the black robed judge walked in from the antechamber to the bench.

"Please be seated," Judge Gates said as he took his chair. "Good morning, Carl."

"Good morning, Your Honour." Carl handed a folder over. Judge Gates glanced at it quickly.

"The State of Pennsylvania Protective Services vs John Benjamin Reese," Carl called out.

"That's us," Samantha whispered. She stood up. "Samantha Groves-Fusco, Your Honour. I will be representing John Reese during these hearings."

"Hello, Mrs. Groves-Fusco," Judge Gates greeted cordially. "We meet again."

"We do, Your Honour."

"Kara Staton representing Child Protective Services, Your Honour," the tall, slender brunette spoke up from the table on the left.

"Ms. Staton," Judge Gates acknowledged her presence.

"You have my report. We believe that circumstances have changed, and since the guardian is deceased, the living arrangement have become deplorable. It would be harmful to keep the minor living in that house."

"Your Honour," Samantha interrupted, "that report is bogus."

Indignant at the accusation, Kara straightened her posture. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"Would you rather I use fraudulent?" Samantha challenged, straightening her spine so she appeared taller. "The report is not truthful. Not once since Sara Carter's death has one visit been made to the residence to do an evaluation on Mr. Reese and his charge," Samantha informed in a precise tone that dared Kara to contest her evidence.

"That's not entirely true, Judge Gates."

Judge Gates lips thinned in annoyance. It was too early for such shenanigans. And it didn't help that his coffee pot broke before he could get his first cup of sanity. He sighed, weary of the early morning bickering. "Which part, Ms. Staton?"

"We have attempted to visit the residence and make an assessment, but we were unable because of the storms."

"So...you lied?" Judge Gates asked in surprise. The audience gave a short chuckle that died down before order could be called. "I repeat my question, Ms. Staton."

Fuming at the turn about, Kara shot Samantha a sideways glance. "I must have been given the wrong information," she deflected without admitting guilt.

Judge Gates turned his gaze to the front row. "Taylor, please approach the bench. You also, Mr. Reese."

Taylor stood up on shaky legs and walked toward the bench. He tried not to hold his breath, but it was getting hard to breathe.

"How are you doing, son?" Judge Gates asked sincerely with a smile to reassure Taylor and put him at ease.

"I'm good."

"I have your school reports here. You're making straight A's. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Are you adjusting to living with Mr. Reese?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you like living with him?"

"Your Honour, I object!" Kara stated emphatically.

"This is not a trial, Ms. Staton; it's only a hearing to see how Taylor is adjusting since Mrs. Carter's passing. Please be seated," he directed the counselor. "Taylor, do you like living with Mr. Reese?"

"Yes. Yes, sir."

"Mr. Reese, I have your reports from your VA sessions. Your progress is commendable and coming along nicely, I see."

"Thank you," John humbly answered.

"Your job situation, though..." Judge Gates flipped some of the pages. "Your funds are running low?"

"There was a snafu with my disability payments," John confessed, "but we're fine. I have been hired by Zoe Morgan to do some contracting inside her coffee shoppe."

"I have Ms. Morgan's verification of Mr. Reese's employment here." Samantha handed it to Carl. "She has employed him from right before Thanksgiving until one day after Christmas."

Judge Gates nodded his approval. "That's an improvement. It definitely helps your situation."

"Mr. Reese is about to be rendered homeless," Kara announced out of the blue. A hush filled the courtroom. Taylor's fingernails began itching. John stopped him.

"That's not entirely true, Your Honour," John contradicted. He prayed that his cheeks weren't as red.

"I have evidence that the house was left to Sara Carter's granddaughter and Mr. Reese has thirty days to vacate."

John and Samantha shared a terrified look at the public revelation.

"Mr. Reese?" Judge Gates prompted. His brows were raised in anticipation at what information could be given to counter the accusation.

"The house was left to both of us, with the condition that we both live in it until the day before Christmas. Thirty two days," John added quickly.

"I see. What happens at the end of the end of thirty two days?"

"If it is required, I hope to have a residence by then."

"However, you do have a residence now?"

"I do."

Kara stood up. "Your Honour, I request that we remove the child from the residence and sever Mr. Reese's guardianship. It is evident that he has no job and is soon to lose his home. I request an Emergency Custody Order to have the child removed from Mr. Reese's guardianship, and be placed in foster care until we can establish a more permanent home for him. Or until we can locate his biological father."

"Have you located him, Counselor?" Judge Gates asked Samantha.

"No, we haven't. We are hopeful, though, that he may turn up. However, I would like to counter Ms. Staton's petition and request that Taylor be allowed to remain with Mr. Reese as his guardian. He is thriving and doing well. Yes, the lack of a job and potential loss of residence is a black mark against him, but I argue that to take Taylor away so soon after Sara Carter's death and right before the holidays could be detrimental to his emotional well-being."

Judge Gates leaned back in his leather chair and absorbed both arguments. The seconds ticked by slowly.

"I agree, Mrs. Groves-Fusco."

"What?!" Kara exclaimed angrily.

"Twenty-seven days from now I want to see all parties and get a progress report."

"Your Honour, we believe that Mr. Reese is detrimental to the child's well-being."

"Explain."

"He is a single man raising a child—a young boy—by himself. Studies have shown—" Kara recited arrogantly.

Judge Gates eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Studies have shown what, exactly, Ms. Staton?" He held up his hand to halt her response. "Before you reply, let me remind you that I am a single father raising a young boy on my own."

Kara swallowed hard.

"Unless you want to be held in contempt of court, I advise that you think twice before you slander someone's character. Twenty-seven days from today I want to see all of you." Judge Gates hit the gavel twice to dismiss the participants and have the final say. A huge sigh filled the room.

"Wow! I didn't see that coming," Samantha said under her breath as she gathered up the files and shoved them in her leather briefcase.

"Good try, Samantha," Kara sneered as she walked over to the table.

"That was low, Kara."

"Whatever it takes. I'm good at my job. And you're good at..." She cast a glance at John and Taylor "...hard luck cases. You won this round, but the next time..."

"You can play dirty all you want, Kara, but Taylor is going to stay with John."

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

Samantha's smile was saccharin sweet, but her eyes were speaking volumes. "I know how you play your games, and I'll do my best to expose you. Until then, do your job and I'll do mine—which is ensuring that Taylor stays with his parent."

Kara turned around, bumping into John. "Oh, the PTSD veteran," she said disparagingly. "I'm going to make sure you never get Taylor. If it takes every bit of my power and authority to make that happen, he will never reside with you. That is my mission." Kara smiled brightly when Taylor appeared. "Back to work."

"Did she just say that?" Samantha asked in disbelief. "I wish I had had my phone on." Inwardly she cursed the justice system.

"It's alright, Sam." John looked at his watch. "We have to go."

"Thursday, okay? Lionel's counting on it."

John gave her a weak smile and a wave before escorting Taylor from the courtroom. Under her breath, Samantha cursed. An unfamiliar lawyer pushed her aside and began setting up.

"Next case," Bailiff Carl called out. "The people vs Savannah Allen.."

 _There has to be some way to thwart that evil woman_ , Samantha though to herself. "Maybe I can get Lionel to dig up some dirt on her."

But until then, she needed to get her ducks in a row and make sure Taylor stayed with John.


	15. Chapter 15

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

John pulled the tape measure along the length of the wood, made a mark with the pencil, tucked the tape measure in his pocket, then began sawing at an angle with undisguised ferocity. Quickly he dispatched the wood and tossed it on the table to his left. He reached for another piece to repeat the process.

In the middle of sawing, he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He looked up but no one was there—then he heard the soft shuffle of a foot.

"Taylor?" he called to the darkness. Hearing his name, Taylor stepped into the room. "What's wrong?" John set the saw down and wiped his hand across his forehead. No matter how busy he was, he would always make time for his little boy.

Nervous and scared, Taylor looked down at the floor. "Do you need some help?" he asked in a small voice.

Smiling, John tossed Taylor the tape measure. "You can measure and mark for me," he offered. "I need ten eight inch long pieces.

"Sure." Taylor quickly measured and marked the required amount of wood.

John picked up the saw and finished cutting the first board.

"What did that woman tell you?" Taylor asked. She had scared and intimidated him. He didn't know why, but she seemed to hate John.

"Nothing worth repeating."

Taylor's eyes filled with sadness. "They are going to take me away, aren't they?"

"I don't know," John replied honestly. He had been prepared for everything but the animosity that Kara had displayed toward him. Thank God for Samantha's quick thinking that helped put everything back on track. Still, he had a bad feeling that he couldn't shake.

"Why?"

"It's complicated, son. I know I said that I wouldn't lie to you, son, but I don't understand their reasoning myself. Besides, it's...what they call 'politics'." Happiness and security of a child was an afterthought when rabid social workers decided to make saving someone a personal cause.

"Is it because Sara died?" Taylor's voice sounded hollow. He was still crying himself to sleep, but he wouldn't burden John by telling him how much he missed the woman he called Grandma.

John sighed. He took the two pieces of cut wood and fit them together but not quite. He took a piece of sandpaper and handed it to Taylor along with the wood.

"Here. Smooth the cut for me," he directed. "I don't know if they would have done this if Sara hadn't died," he replied honestly. The scraping sound of paper on wood was soothing.

"Is it because you're not married?"

John weighed his answer. "Sort of."

"Then get married," Taylor said simply with a shrug. He handed the wood over. "Is this good?"

"Yep. Now this one." John handed over the second piece of wood. Waited for Taylor to finish, then fitted the two angles together. Perfect. He picked up the hammer and nails and made the fit permanent.

"How's that?" John asked.

"Nice. I guess. Is that the roof?"

"The frame of the stable."

"Oh." Taylor paused. "Marry Zoe."

John stopped what he was doing. "Marry who?"

"Zoe. You like her. She likes you. She can cook," Taylor listed off the positive attributes of the local coffee shop owner.

A smile tugged at John's lips. "Zoe wouldn't marry me."

"She might."

"Zoe's like me," John said without elaborating.

"She's pretty, and she's nice."

"Zoe doesn't want to get married, sport. And she doesn't want to marry me," John said in a tone that the subject was dropped. "What's Joss doing?"

"She was making the bed. I guess some sheets came in the mail." Taylor shrugged indifferently. "Is she going to stay?"

"She doesn't have a choice."

"Not really. She can leave. Sara left half the house to you—I heard it. Buy her out."

"I can't do that." _Can't or won't_ , his conscience nagged. He wasn't sure of the answer himself.

"Why not? I'll give you the money. You can have my trust fund," Taylor offered in a rush.

John gave a short laugh. "Thanks for the offer, Taylor, but it's not that simple."

"Is that why she bought a bed?"

"She got tired of sleeping on the couch. It is pretty old." John made some corrections to the blue-print on the drawing table.

"I liked it."

John smiled wryly. "Sure, you did. Hand me that piece of cedar behind you."

Taylor did as he was asked. "Did we have to go back to court because she came back?"

"No. Taylor. Look, we have tomorrow to build this manger, then Thursday we go over to Sam and Lionel's for Thanksgiving. Let's not worry about what hasn't happened, okay?" John said gently to soothe the youngster's growing fears. "Go get washed up while I finish this. Then I'll come in and start dinner. How does club sandwiches and fries sound?"

Taylor lifted then dropped his shoulder. "Good," he grumbled and kicked the sawdust with the toe of his shoe.

"I'll be up in five." A knock on the door frame made John look up to see Joss.

"I thought you might be out here." Joss didn't wait for an invite as she walked into the room. In her hand she held a ceramic cup. "I brought coffee."

"Thanks." John took it but set it on the table to his left. "Go watch TV, Taylor," he ordered.

Without a backwards glance, Taylor hurried off.

"Did you get everything worked out with the insurance company?" John asked politely. It had irked him that Joss wasn't in the courtroom, but it had been out of his hands.

"Heh. You could say that. Would you believe the computer chip failed and that is why the defroster didn't work?" she said in disbelief, still unsure how she felt about nearly dying at the hands of A.I. "I've been cleared of any wrong-doing, and I got a new car."

"Congratulations."

"Too much enthusiasm, John. How was court?"

"Nothing much to report. We go back two days before Christmas. In that time I need to find a permanent job or get my disability back up and running; and I need to find a new home."

She wasn't going to insult him by apologizing, so she said, "Oh. What's that?" Joss nodded at the wood framed structure.

"A manger. Zoe requested one for the shoppe." John continued measuring and cutting and fitting.

"Nice."

"She's going to pay me."

"Is that what you two were talking about?" Joss looked around at the neat arrangement of tools and hardware displayed on the walls. The room was insulated so well that one didn't feel the cold from the outside even though the small floor heater was barely giving any heat.

"Amongst other things."

Joss gave a curious look at the skeleton frame. "I didn't know you could do woodwork."

"I learned in college," John confessed. Joss raised her eyebrow. "Basket weaving was filled up," he replied tongue in cheek. His busy hands seemed to relax his tongue. "I needed one more class to finish my MBA, and I thought it might come in handy to match my engineering trade from the Navy."

"Has it?"

"I get an occasional call to fix a roof leak during the rainy season or after a big snowstorm. One roof always seems to need to be replaced. It isn't much, but it helps."

"What did Lionel have to say?" Joss asked carefully.

"It wasn't Lionel; it was his wife, Samantha. She's my lawyer."

"Is it bad?"

"Could be."

"How bad?"

"The caseworker seems to have it in for me. Threatened that she will do whatever it takes to take Taylor away from me."

Joss caught her bottom lip in her teeth. "Can she do that?"

"Sure. And if I want to keep Taylor, then I need to tow the line and do everything the State requires." Even if it meant walking on hot coals. However, he drew the line at kissing someone's backside.

Joss digested that bit of information before asking, "What about his dad?"

"What about him?" John bit off in disgust. Next to Kara Staton, Taylor's dad was enough to make his blood boil and release the daddy lion lurking inside.

"Where...what happened? How did Taylor wind up with you and Grandma?" Joss wondered.

"Do you want the sanitized version or the brutal truth?" John tried to focus on cutting the boards and not the wicked perfume Joss was wearing. With more strength than necessary, he sawed each piece of wood.

"Just the truth."

"Paul has a problem with alcohol and drugs. He was kicked out of the Marines for dereliction of duty and failing a drug test. He tried to make a life for himself after his wife died, but things fell apart. He dived into a bottle and refused to come out. He would be gone for days trying to score another hit."

Joss's eyes widened and her heart pounded fiercely. "Did he hurt...?"

John shook his head. "Not physically. But there were other ways. One night in a drunken stupor, he decided he was going to find Taylor's mother and bring her home—despite her being dead for three years."

"Oh no."

"He took Taylor with him. It was the dead of winter—near zero—and Taylor only had a windbreaker on. He was wearing sneakers but no socks." John finished the last piece of wood and tossed it haphazardly to the pile. Breathing hard, he took the mug of coffee and leaned against the work table.

"They went to the cemetery—no telling how long they wandered around. Taylor fell down and broke his ankle, so he couldn't keep up with Paul. It wouldn't have mattered any way. Paul disappeared, leaving him behind to fend for himself. Taylor crawled over to a grave and huddled down behind a headstone for shelter because it started to snow. How he survived, no one knows. Lionel was making rounds the next morning and found him cold, hungry, with just a touch of hypothermia." John slowly sipped the lukewarm coffee.

"Got him to the hospital, and Lionel came by to let Sara know what happened. She applied to foster him; Sam moved heaven and earth to get it approved."

Joss's look was soft. "How long has it been?"

"Two years come Christmas. Best present I ever got. Sara said having Taylor gave her a reason to live."

Uncomfortable by the remark, Joss shifted her weight from one foot to another. "And the next hearing...?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not thinking about it. Trying to get this done for Zoe."

"What if something...you know...happens?"

"Then you'll have your wish, Joss. You'll have the house, the property, and everything that comes with it," John replied in a voice that seemed to have given up. What did he care? But he had to care.

"John, you're tired. We've both had a long day. I made dinner," she offered an olive branch. "You can work on that tomorrow."

John looked at the pile of wood. It wasn't going to make anything better if he attempted to build anything right now.

"Sure. I'll clean up in here and be inside in five minutes."

"Make sure you wash up first."

"Aye aye."

Joss started to say something, but turned on her heel and walked away. But in the deepest part of her brain, she was trying to form a plan to help John and Taylor.


	16. Chapter 16

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Lionel walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. "What's for dinner?" he asked casually. It had been a long shift and he was starving. Nothing was on the stove, but that didn't mean he couldn't find something to fill his gut.

"Hmmph!" came the response from behind the stack of folders sitting on the table.

"Ah. The silent treatment. Again," he said sarcastically. He grabbed the gallon of milk and walked over to the counter. "Nothing like leftovers." He took a bowl from the cupboard.

"You don't deserve anything else."

Lionel set the bowl down and turned around. "Okay, Sam, let's have it out. What have I done that was so godawful that you had to give me the cold shoulder for four days?" his tone was exasperated. He loved her, but there was a fine line between what he would put up with and what he would endure.

Samantha raised her head, removed her reading glasses. "I don't know, Lionel. Maybe it was conveniently forgetting to tell me that Joss Carter is back in town and is living under the same roof with John and Taylor." Her tone gave back the same one she had received.

"She's still here?" Lionel asked in dumbfounded surprise.

"She never left. But that's not the point. Why didn't you tell me that she was back?"

Lionel shrugged. "I didn't think it was important. Last time I saw her, I thought she'd be on the first plane back to Cal-i-for-ni-a," he mocked the pronunciation of the Golden State.

Samantha's eyes widened in stupefied disbelief. "You didn't think that Sara Carter's granddaughter being back and occupying a house with my clients was worthy of my knowing?!" The tone of her voice let him know that she wasn't going to tolerate any monkeyshine. Too much was at stake.

Chastised, Lionel tried to think of saying something smart to save his pride. Then decided against it. "We...ll...when you put it that way..."

"You put the case in jeopardy," Samantha accused. Anger was safer than tears, and tears were not permitted.

"Me?!" Lionel shot back angrily. "I thought you knew. She was at the funeral."

"I wasn't, or have you forgotten? I was out of town at the seminar, remember?" she volleyed back with equal anger.

Lionel gave himself a mental kick. "I forgot. Look, Joss Carter was not the first thing on my list of priorities. I had accidents, fires, and elderly people I needed to check on while Mother Nature decided to slam this area like a door, okay?" he defended his memory loss. "Besides, it's an open and shut case anyway, right?"

"Kara Staton is representing the state, and she put forth an emergency petition to have Taylor removed from John's guardianship," Samantha informed coldly.

"Kara Staton? Great!" Lionel rubbed a hand over his weary forehead and tried to make sense of everything. "She hates John."

"I wish I had known this _before_ I went into court. I hate being caught off guard."

Lionel held up his hands in self-defense. "I didn't know."

"But you knew that Joss was back. Did you know about the will?" Samantha asked.

"Yes and no," Lionel replied. Samantha raised her eyebrow and gave him _the look_. "Nothing definitive."

"How did Kara find out?"

"I don't know. The will isn't exactly under lock and key; it's public record. I thought for sure Sara Carter would be giving the house to John or Taylor."

"Well, she circumvented conventional wisdom and gave it to John _and_ Joss."

Lionel froze. "She what?!"

"Apparently they have to live together for thirty days, and then at the end, they can sell the house or buy each other out. Whomever leaves before the time is up has to forfeit."

"John won't leave," Lionel stated matter-of-fact.

"Joss isn't leaving, either. But that's neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is: at the end of thirty days John is going to be homeless and the state is going to take Taylor away."

"What about money?"

"There was a bureaucratic snafu and he hasn't been paid in six months."

Lionel snorted. "That's ridiculous. Six months?"

"Someone informed the VA that John is dead." Samantha's smile was anything but sweet. "And I would bet the farm that Kara had something to do with it."

"But that was six months ago," Lionel argued the logic. "How could she have had the power?"

Samantha took the sheet of paper from the stack and handed it over. "She came to town seven months ago. I checked into it. And it appears she deliberately got herself assigned to this case."

Lionel scanned the information that reaffirmed what his wife has told him. "This is not good." He balled the paper up and threw it toward the trash can. He missed.

"What do you know about her, Lionel?"

"Nothing I can repeat in front of a lady. Something about an accident that occurred way back when. John's never really talked about it. But that may be why he has that limp. Have you asked him?"

"No," she admitted reluctantly. "I don't know how, but if I don't..."

"John could lose Taylor," Lionel finished her deepest fear so she wouldn't have to.

"Even if he keeps the house." Samantha pressed a palm to her forehead and closed her eyes. "I have so much work to do, and I need to get ready for Thursday." She wasn't complaining—not exactly. But she was worn out.

Lionel looked over at the stack of paperwork. "You need a partner," he suggested.

Samantha brightened. "You're right. And I know the perfect person to help." She leaned over and kissed Lionel full on the mouth before grabbing her keys and purse. She quickly pulled on her coat and boots.

"Where are you going?" Lionel sputtered in surprise at his wife's change in demeanor.

"No time to talk. Save me some cereal. Love you," she called out, pulling the door shut behind her.

Lionel picked up the box of Apple Jacks, shook it. "Nah."

**************  
The dinner dishes had been cleared, and John was washing and stacking them in the drainer. It was the least he could do since Joss had cooked. He didn't know what he had eaten, but it had to have been the most delicious concoction of beef and noodles he had ever tasted.

"Is there going to be dessert?" Taylor asked.

"We'll have ice cream and then a movie. First, you have to finish your algebra homework," John directed and rinsed the plate. Grabbing the wok from the stove, he set it in the hot soapy water to soak.

Taylor grumbled. "I don't like algebra," he complained. Not that it was going to change anything, but it made him feel better. "Can't we build the stable?"

"That's for tomorrow. Homework is for tonight."

Joss walked into the kitchen. She cast a glance at the open book. "What's that?"

"Algebra," John supplied.

"I'd rather have ice cream," Taylor muttered.

"I was pretty good at algebra," Joss offered the pledge of help. Instead, Taylor pulled the book closer and placed his arm over the text. Joss looked to John for help, but he shook his head.

"Do two problems, sport, then we'll have dessert. Which movie do you want to watch?" John offered an alternative.

"The sci-fi one about the alien guy who lands in Denmark."

"Outlander? I love that movie," Joss said happily.

A slight grumble but no argument came as Taylor's pencil hurriedly worked out the correct solutions.

"Algebra in fifth grade?" Joss mused aloud. "I'm glad I went to school when I did; fractions were hard enough to solve. Never did help me, though."

"Helped you well enough to get the job you have."

"Well, yeah..."

The doorbell chimed.

John looked at his watch. "Who's calling here this late in the evening?" he asked rhetorically. Quickly moving, he covered the space between the kitchen to the front door. Turning the deadbolt, he opened the heavy oak door.

"Sam! What are you doing here?" he asked the shivering woman standing on the porch.

"Hey John. Can I come in?"

John stepped to the side. "Come in." He closed the door. "Is Lionel with you?"

"No. Left him at home. I need to talk to Joss."

"Joss? Sure... Joss? Can you come out here for a minute?" John called out.

Surprised at being summoned, Joss hesitantly walked into the living room. "What's wrong?"

"Joss Carter?" Samantha asked in wonder. Her face shone with admiration. "It's really you."

"I'm Joss Carter. Who are you? Have we met?"

"Yes and no. I'm Samantha—Lionel's wife. I'm representing John. We haven't met," she gushed. "You were Magna Cum Laude Harvard Law School. You wrote your thesis on the advantage and pitfalls of crony capitalism and big government."

Joss nodded. "I did."

"I reference your work when I wrote my thesis. That was the most impressive piece of work I've ever read. You're the reason I wanted to become a lawyer."

"You're welcome?" Joss replied uncomfortable at the surprise adulation. Off to her side, John was looking at her as though he had just seen her for the first time. How had he not known Joss was a lawyer and graduated top of her class? How had Sara not known? In that moment, admiration and surprise were replaced by anger.

"Look at me. I'm sorry. I was wondering—since you are going to be here for a while—if you would like to work for me?" Samantha extended the invitation.

"Work? I don't know..."

"I can't pay you much."

"I'm not a practicing lawyer anymore. And if I were, I'm not licensed to practice here."

"I need someone to clerk for me—someone who knows the law inside and out."

"What is your field?"

"Legal aid. I do it all. Not very well right now because I am swamped. It would just be a few days a week. And I'll make sure there's donuts and coffee...and I'll buy lunch." Samantha sweetened the deal.

Joss smiled. "Sure. Guess it will get me out of the house for a while. Tomorrow?"

"Nine o'clock. Donuts or bear claws?"

"Both."

"Deal." Samantha extended her hand to seal the deal. Joss took it and gave a firm shake. "Tomorrow." She looked at John. "Well, my job here is done. I'll see you tomorrow. And I need to see you tomorrow in my office, John. One o'clock." She hurried to the door. "Bye!" She was gone before the cold could get inside.

"Wow!" Joss whispered in disbelief at the whirlwind. "Is she always like that? No nonsense and to the point?"

"Be lucky she asked. Usually she forms the plan and ropes you in before you know what happened. I need to go finish the pan, then get the ice cream," John excused himself. He needed to be alone to digest the information dump on the woman he thought he knew but didn't know.

"I can help," Joss offered.

"I can handle it, Joss." John shook off her offer. "Just put the movie in." He was gone from the room before Joss could reply.

"Okay..." she said to the empty room. "Can I have chocolate?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

John stretched the thin electrical cord to the spot on the rafter of the ceiling before pulling a tiny nail from his mouth and securing it in place. Up and down the rows he repeated the process until he reached the end.

Sighing with satisfaction, he stepped down from the ladder and stretched his arms over his head. It had been a long morning that had begun before the break of dawn, but the task was now completed in time before Zoe opened the shoppe.

"Done already?" Zoe asked, walking into the room. She had been watching John hang lights for two hours and noticed that he was holding something back, but what? She wanted to ask him, but now was not the time or place.

"I think so. Wanna hit the lights?" John invited.

Zoe flicked the switch on the wall. The lights paused for a half second before illuminating the area in a soft white glow. The criss crossed pattern of icicle lights gave the dining area an ethereal feel of a Winter Wonderland.

"Wow!" Taylor stopped what he was doing to look at the light show.

"Wow is right," Zoe agreed in breathless amazement. She had expected John to hang the strands across the ceiling rafters and leave it there. It wouldn't have mattered to her how they were hung. But he had gone out of his way to add a few special touches to a usually bland design. To say she was impressed would be an understatement.

"I ran out of lights in the far corner," John apologized for the bare spot in the far left corner.

"I'll send Anthony to the store later to get some more." Zoe walked to the middle of the room. She turned around in a circle. "I really like this. You do amazing work," she praised enthusiastically.

"I'm done, Miss Zoe," Taylor spoke up. Zoe walked over the booth. She glanced at the huge pile of snowflakes. Taking one from the stack, she unfolded it for inspection.

"Are you sure you don't do this professionally?" she complimented. "Well, I think you and your dad are trying to break the bank."

Taylor looked nervous. "I didn't mean—" Had he done something wrong? She had requested snowflakes, right? He looked at John for reassurance.

Zoe lovingly rumpled Taylor's hair. "What I mean is: this is such good work, that I'm going to need a quite a few more."

Taylor swallowed hard before asking, "How many more?"

"Well...enough to hang from the lights," Zoe replied sweetly. "Yeah, I think these would look great hanging from the lights." She stretched her arm toward the tiny bulb, but she didn't quite reach. "Don't you think?"

Taylor looked from Zoe to John, who nodded encouragingly. "Great job, T."

"I'm going to need a lot more paper."

"I have more, don't you worry. How about you take a break while I get some hot chocolate, okay?"

"May I have a piece of pecan pie?" Taylor whispered.

"With whipped cream or ice cream?"

"Both?"

Zoe extended her hand. "It's a deal." She looked at the clock. "I have five minutes until I open. Let's get everything cleaned up, then I'll get your payment." She crooked a finger. "John?"

John closed down the ladder and followed Zoe to the back storage closet. He replaced the tools before washing his hands.

"That was nice. Thank you."

"What was nice?" Zoe was flummoxed by the remark.

"What you did for Taylor. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to, John. Taylor's a good kid. I wish I had a dozen like him," she replied wistfully. It wasn't possible, but she took her blessings where she could get them. "And you're doing a great job raising him; I can see the changes in him."

"It's a slow process." Slower than he could have predicted, but the counselor said everything was moving along and Taylor could be his old self by the start of the school year.

"Considering what he went through, it's amazing he's bounced back. What about you?" she inquired.

John pulled a couple of paper towels down and dried his hands. "What about me?"

"It's been a rough couple of weeks—what with Sara, the custody hearing, and Joss..." Zoe's eyes were soft and understanding. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm taking it day by day," he admitted reluctantly. He didn't like failing, but since the start of the month it had been one setback after another. He was caught in a rut with no way out.

"And the VA?" John gave her a startled look. "I have my sources," she told him without elaborating.

"Red tape."

"But you're good? Do you need anything? I have a savings account and it's yours if you need it," she offered to help.

"I have some money tucked away. As long as this winter stays calm and no unforeseen catastrophes are on the horizon, I can make it to spring." It was going to be tighter than that, but why worry her? If he could just make it thru the holidays and the court dates, maybe there would be a silver lining.

"You know, I have some odds-and-ends jobs here that you can help out with," Zoe offered without sounding as though she was pitying him. "It doesn't pay much, but it can keep the lights on and gas in the truck."

"Thanks, Zoe." John was humbled by the unexpected opportunity.

Zoe patted his arm. "You're welcome. Now let's get your payment and open shop. I have a lot of things I need to sell so I can keep you employed." She winked. The clocked struck eight.

"Time to open up. Go sit with Taylor; I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Then I have a couple of more projects for you."

"I have an appointment at one," John informed her.

"I'll have you out by then. Now go sit."

"Aye aye." John turned on his heel and walked to the dining area.  
********

Three hours into her new job and Joss was more exhausted than she could ever remember. No amount of burning the candle at both ends while trying to cram for an exam, or tying up last minute loose ends on a land deal had ever worn her out to where she needed a nap. When Samantha had said she was swamped, boy, had that been the understatement of the century!

Three stacks checked and filed in the large cabinets, Joss could finally get to her cup of coffee and half-eaten bear claw. Taking a bite of the decadent pastry, she closed her eyes.

"How's it coming along?" Samantha asked, interrupting the moment. In her hands she held two oblong boxes stenciled with the name of a local deli.

"You weren't kidding when you said you were swamped," Joss replied with a small laugh.

Samantha looked around and smiled. "Wow! I forgot I had a second desk over there," she nodded toward the left side of the office and the now cleared desk. "That one is yours."

Joss looked flummoxed. "Uh..." There had to be a polite way to decline, but the words failed her.

"Unless you would rather have the one nearest to the door," Samantha amended. "I'd offer you the one in the office, but that's mine."

"I don't know. I thought that...well... This is just temporary." It was, wasn't it?

Samantha shrugged. "It is. Then again, it could be permanent."

"I'm not staying." How weak the words sounded.

"Okay." Samantha wasn't going to argue.

"I have a beautiful penthouse just off of the PCH overlooking the ocean," Joss protested in her defense.

"Sounds lovely."

"And I have friends and a job." With each protest, her defense for not staying in Pennsylvania crumbled.

"You have them here, too," Samantha countered easily.

"And a cat."

"Hmmm." Was that agreeing or disagreeing? Or was she simply enjoying the sandwich? Joss tried to read her boss, but failed. Samantha had a way of closing herself off and devoiding herself of emotion.

"So, I can't just leave."

Samantha thought it over for a minute. "Tell you what, let's work on getting my office situated first."

Joss looked around at the mess. "That may take a while," she joked.

"Let's eat. Coke or Sprite?"

"Coke."

"Thought so." Samantha handed the large styrofoam cup to Joss. "Hope you like roast beef."

"I'm not picky." Joss opened the box. Her stomach grumbled loudly. "At least my stomach isn't," she laughed and took out the foot long wrapped sandwich. Sitting on the edge of the desk, she took a big bite. "Hmmm..."

"What's going on between you and John?" Samantha wondered, biting into the sandwich.

Joss swallowed quickly. "What do you mean?"

Samantha shrugged. "Curiosity. You came back."

"I had to make peace with my grandmother," Joss replied simply.

"And you stayed," Samantha pointed out in a non-judgmental way.

"Not by choice."

"We all have a choice, Joss. I can't imagine it was for the house."

"Lionel."

"Not really. I'm good at what I do, and my job is to read people and then make assumptions so I can plan a way to succeed. And that means leaving no stone unturned," Samantha replied in a no nonsense tone. "And the stone I turned on you tells me that you're searching for something—answers, maybe. But you haven't found them."

"Heh."

"What answers are you looking for?"

"I don't know if I am looking for anything," Joss evaded answering directly. She had stopped trying to make figure things out the moment the deer ran out in front of her.

"Maybe you're trying too hard. Sometimes the answers are right in front of us. And maybe, sometimes, you don't want to find the answers because it would change everything you've believed in."

"Why do I feel like I'm being cross-examined?" Joss tried to joke to ease the uncomfortable feeling building inside of her.

Samantha's smile was soft and reassuring. "No. No. I'm just trying to get to know you." She finished the rest of her meal, balled up the paper, and placed it in the box.

"I'm sure Lionel's filled you in."

"A little," Samantha admitted, "but I don't make judgments based on conjecture. I like to get to know people based on face-to-face. Makes it more personal. More honest."

"Heh. You're good."

"Well..." Samantha said coyly "not as good as someone I know. But maybe someday. I hope you like the ripple chips; it was all they had."

"Ripple's good."

"I have my one o'clock coming, and I have some phone calls I need to make. So, I'll go in the next room," Samantha excused herself. From the look on Joss's face, the seed she had planted may have taken root. Now she had to step back and see if it thrived.

Joss waved her off. "I'm good. As you can see, I have _a lot_ of filing still to do." Turning on her phone, she pulled up the internet music station and hit play. The soothing sounds of oldies but goodies filled the room.

Picking up a stack of alphabetized folders, Joss walked over to the tall cabinet and pulled open a drawer. Under her breath, she sang along with the Temptations.

"You still know the words," a voice spoke from behind Joss. Startled, she spun around, causing a few of the manila folders to fall to the ground—their contents spilled out.

"Whaaaat?" Joss looked to see John standing beside the desk. "John! You startled me!" She knelt down to gather the papers in a stack. All that hard work and now she was back to square one. John joined her.

"Sorry." Although his tone sounded meek, his eyes were bold as he looked her over. "You still listen to The Temptations?"

"Couldn't stop if I wanted to. Good music doesn't have an expiration. Besides, I had the chance to meet them a few years ago," Joss said.

John handed Joss the papers. "You didn't have a heart attack?"

"After I went home and it hit me...yeah, I did," Joss confessed her moment of turning into a fourteen year old girl who had met her heroes.

"You always said you would." The smile didn't reach John's eyes. Something that wasn't lost on Joss. He almost looked sad.

"Well, it was my lucky night because they were performing for the opening at one of the resorts we built," she said.

"I'm happy for you." John looked around. "Is Sam here?"

"Yeah, she's in the office. You're a little early," Joss observed that he had smoothly changed the subject.

"I don't think she'll mind."

"I can call her," Joss offered.

"I can knock. I have an 'open door' card."

"Oh. Where's Taylor?"

"At Zoe's cutting snowflakes. He's already made ten dollars." John's chest swelled with pride at the way Taylor was starting to break out of his shell. Two years ago, he could barely get the kid out to the porch into the sunshine without a breakdown. Now he was sitting in a store earning some extra spending cash.

Joss was impressed. "Wow! Way to go, Taylor."

"He is setting his goal for twenty to get a new game," John said.

"I'm pretty sure he'll do it." There was something familiar about the little boy that was drawing Joss in and wanting to protect him.

The door to Samantha's office opened. "John, you're here." Her face broke out in a huge smile.

"I know I'm early," he apologized.

"No. No. It's alright. Come in." Samantha stepped aside to allow John to walk inside. "Joss, would you hold my calls?"

"No problem."

"Thanks." Samantha closed the door soundly.


	18. Chapter 18

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

"Everything you know about Kara Staton," Samantha began without any formalities or pleasantries. "Why does she have it in for you?"

John searched his memory. "I honestly don't know," he confessed. He had racked his brain for the past twenty-four hours trying to remember the slight—anything—that would have put a black mark next to his name.

"Think, John. She has it in for you. She wants to destroy you and take Taylor away. When did you meet her?" She felt bad interrogating him, but she had to do what she had to, if they were going to win.

"Six months ago." That unforeseeable moment when his life changed without his knowing.

"Did you go to her office or did she come to you?"

"She came to the house. I answered the door because I was home that day; Sara had the flu," John remembered the day vividly.

"Did she come into the house? Did she make notes?" Samantha probed for answers so she could discover the inexplicable animosity.

"I invited her inside, offered her a cup of coffee—which she declined. She asked to speak to Sara; I told her she couldn't and why."

"Did she seem upset? Irritated? Cold? Callous?"

John shook his head. "No. She appeared to be pleasant, friendly." Almost too pleasant, if his memory served correctly. Now that he thought about it, she had seemed to lord her position over him.

Samantha jotted the information down on the legal pad. "Then what?"

"I showed her Taylor's doctors' reports and his therapist's report; she asked for copies. I showed her Taylor progress for home-school. She asked to meet Taylor."

"Were they alone?"

"No. I couldn't allow that without Sara's consent."

Samantha nodded. "What did they talk about?"

"Everything. School, living here, how well he was adjusting."

Another jotting of notes. "Okay. Did you make a pass at her?"

"She's not my type," John replied, disgusted at the implication.

"I'm not asking if she's your type, John. I need to know if you looked at her too long, or held her hand longer than usual when shaking it..."

"I never shook her hand. She didn't offer, and I wasn't going to volunteer to make the first move," John replied with obvious irritation at the line of questioning. Samantha backed off. A little.

"O...kay. What else did she talk about?"

"She asked about my military service. She asked if I was working and if I had money to support Taylor. I told her my service dates and I was getting disability due to an IED injury. But I also explained that Sara was his custodian and I was guardian."

"That should have been in the file," Samantha murmured. "Anything else?"

"She told me that she could get me a job, and money, and a vehicle if I just let her sign me up for custodianship and take control of my life."

"And what did you say?"

"I told her 'no thanks' and that I had a truck and money, and my job was taking care of the house and farmland and watching over Sara and Taylor."

"Hmmm."

"What does that mean?"

"Maybe everything. Maybe nothing. All of this happened—your disability snafu, the VA being told you're dead—right after you rebuffed Kara."

"I didn't rebuff her," John argued.

"In her eyes, you did. She offered you assistance, and you turned her down."

"It was a hand out."

"She was trying to ride in and save the day and you refused to play the damsel—er, the knight in distress."

"This is vengeance?" John asked in disbelief at the summation as to why his life may have taken a sudden downturn.

Samantha shook her head. "I'm not say it is, but I'm not saying it isn't," she cautioned to keep her client from jumping to conclusions.

"I refused to play the game, so now I—and Taylor—we're being punished. Isn't that against the law?" John could feel his temper start to boil.

"It could be...if we could prove it. She has the law, power, and a limitless amount of taxpayer cash at her disposal. All she has to do is file that Emergency Protective Order and," she snapped her fingers "Taylor will be out of your home and in foster care so fast..."

"How much?"

"I don't know," Samantha honestly replied. "What she is doing is wrong, but the state will overlook everything when it comes to the welfare of a child. I have several other cases that I need to attend to, but I'm going to put everything I have in yours."

"He won't make it, Sam," John's voice choked on the tears clogging his throat. He wasn't going to cry.

Samantha reached out and touched his arm in sympathy. "I know. All I can suggest is doing everything she tells you—no matter how trivial or asinine it may sound. If I know her, she is going to try to catch you in a lie so she can present it to the judge. Her one and only goal is Taylor's welfare."

John counted to ten, but it wasn't helping. He had to go for a run, or hit the punching bag.

"Right now, just keep a stable home for Taylor," Samantha suggested. "How are things with Joss?"

John shrugged. "It's like a roller-coaster...on a good day," he admitted.

"How do you feel about her?"

"She ran away and stayed away for seventeen years; I don't know how I feel."

"I don't know, John, I saw something in you change when I was talking to her last night."

"Her accomplishments threw me."

Samantha's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You didn't know?"

"No. She didn't exactly keep in touch with me. Or Sara, for that matter."

"What did you have before she left?" Samantha inquired.

"Nothing."

"John."

"What is this, twenty questions as you dig into my life?"

"Kara will dig deeper. What did you have with Joss?"

John considered lying and telling Samantha it was nothing but a stupid childhood romance. But more than his pride was at stake.

"I loved her."

It was three little words spoken in the past tense, but Samantha could read between the lines. She saw the way John's cheek twitched and the forlorn look in his eyes. It was a blessing and curse to be able to read body language, and his was speaking volumes.

"Do you know why she left home without any contact?"

"I'm not sure." He had been far away overseas doing construction with the Seabees when the letter came from Sara mentioning the fight and how Joss had piled everything up in her car and driven away. He couldn't leave and go home to help, so he had written her and told her to remain steadfast and Joss would return soon. How was he supposed to know that it would take seventeen years? Or that America would be attacked a scant seven months later?

"I see." Samantha set down the notepad. "We're between a rock and a hard place, John."

"Tell me about it, Sam."

"You being single and nearly destitute—not to mention homeless, is not boding well in your favour."

"What if I could get married?" John offered up Taylor's earlier suggestion.

"It could help, but it could backfire. Especially if Kara sees through it. What happens in six months when you annul your marriage?"

"I would marry Satan to keep Taylor," John emphatically stated.

"Maybe we won't get that desperate. When she calls you to set up a visitation, I want you to let me know the time she will be there. Then I want you to write down everything that transpired. I don't care how insignificant you think it might be," Samantha ordered.

"I can do that."

"But above all, I want you to turn off any feelings you may have toward her. I don't care what she says or does. Is that understood?"

"For Taylor, I can."

"It's not for Taylor, John. It's for you." Samantha set the notepad down. "Okay. Our hour is nearly up. On to other things."

"Is this part of what I'm paying you for?" John asked curiously.

"Call it 'catching up'. What are you bringing for Thanksgiving?"

"I hadn't thought about it."

"Do you still make that pumpkin pie from scratch?"

"Is that a request or an order?"

"More like don't forget to bring it."

"I'll bring one," John assured her.

"Better bring two."

"I will." John turned out his heel and walked toward the door. His phone rang. He pulled it out of his jeans pocket and hit talk. "John Reese...yes, I will be there. What time? Thank you." He disconnected the call.

"Kara?" Samantha guessed.

"The one and only. She wants to come by tomorrow at three."

Samantha jotted the information down on her desk calendar. "Got it. Remember what I told you."

"I will. See you Thursday."

"You too."  
**********

"Hmmm. That smells good," Joss complimented, walking into the kitchen. It had been a long day at the office, but it had done her good to get out and socialize. Even if the socialization was with one other person.

"Thank you," John said from inside the oven as he took out the pie tins.

"What is it?"

"Pumpkin pie. My recipe." John placed the pies on the cooling rack, then closed the oven door. He took off the oven mitts and hung them on the hook on the wall.

"For Thursday?"

"Yeah." John poured himself a cup of coffee. "How was work?"

"Samantha was swamped. How in the world does she manage to remember anything with her organization skills?" Joss wondered aloud.

"She has the ability to file everything in her brain. Similar to downloading to a hard-drive. Even more reliable."

"Lucky her. Unlucky me." Joss glanced at the mug. "Can I have some?" she asked politely.

"Thought coffee keeps you awake if you drink it after five?" John chided.

"Tonight I don't think it's going to matter."

John busied himself with preparing the drink before handing it over. "Here."

Joss sipped. "Your coffee keeps getting better the longer I stay."

"I have to drink it too, so don't get too excited." John pulled the chair out and sat down opposite Joss.

"What's going on with the case?"

"Confidential."

"Don't pull that with me, John. I live here too, and it affects me."

"It's a 'need to know'."

"Look," Joss said with an irritated sigh and set her mug down, "I get that you are angry with me for not telling you all about my past..."

"For starters," John said over the rim as he sipped.

"But the fact remains that I know the law..."

"Family Law?"

"Corporate," she admitted. "But it doesn't take a rocket scientist to get familiar with that area. I mean, look at you. You have a trade in engineering but you build wooden stables and cook like a dream."

"Touche, Joss."

"Who's Kara Staton?"

"No one." John's fingernail played at the chipped paint on the mug.

"She sounds important. Dangerous."

"She's a social worker. One with a vendetta."

"Against you." Joss didn't pull any punches with her next question. "Did you sleep with her?"

John pulled back as if he had been punched. "No," he replied angrily. "What kind of question is that?"

"A logical one. She hates you, John."

"There's a surprise, Joss. Now tell me something I don't know."

"Why does she hate you?"

"Well, when you figure that one out, please let me know." John pushed back from the table and stood up.

"Did you insult her? Intimidate her? Call her bluff in any way?" Joss listed the many ways John could have upset his nemesis to the point she was going to use all of her government resources to exact revenge.

"Honestly, Joss? I don't know—even after being grilled by Sam for nearly an hour. I have played every moment over and over in my head, and I still can't figure out what I did to offend her." John reached under the counter, pulled out a frying pan and slapped it on the stove. He walked over to the fridge and yanked open the door. His eyes searched for something, anything, to cook for dinner. But he came up empty.

"I had a client like her, once," Joss confessed. "Bitter man. No matter how much I bent over backwards to accommodate him and his demands, he was never satisfied. He never had a kind word. He berated me on my looks, my clothes...even the way I spoke. Said I sounded too 'yankee' and I needed to learn how to talk properly."

John turned to look at her. "What did you do? How did you meet him halfway?"

Joss shook her head. "I couldn't. He filed a complaint to have me replaced. I bowed out from the research team right after. Hurt my chances at promotion. I left the firm."

"I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. I found out that maybe being a lawyer wasn't for me. I waited a week, called a friend and found a job interning for site development."

"Lucky you."

"Yeah. Lucky me."

"So...what was it? That made him act that way?"

"A female lawyer wronged him years ago while he was going thru a divorce. Put a bad taste in his mouth." Almost ten years later, and the bad taste was still in her mouth. "Maybe that's what happened with Kara."

"I don't know. But if you want to profile her, she's coming over tomorrow. She's calls it an 'inspection'."

"I think I'd like to meet her." Joss stood up. "Tell you what, John. Why don't you close the fridge and go freshen up. Get Taylor and we'll all go for pizza. My treat."

"Joss..." John wanted to decline the offer, but it was more tempting to say yes.

"You've done everything these past few days, and I owe you. Come on."

John closed the fridge. "Okay," he gave in.

Joss smiled broadly. "Good. Meet you down by the truck in ten." She hurried out of the kitchen.

John felt a weird feeling start in the pit of his stomach. "I hope you know what you're doing, John," he warned himself before calling for Taylor.


	19. Chapter 19

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

"What time is the social worker supposed to arrive?" Taylor inquired from his place near the window. He had been keeping a lookout for the familiar maroon sedan all morning, despite John having told him to relax. But how could he? Something deep in the pit of his stomach was telling him that his world was coming to an end. Maybe he should run away? But where he would go; what would he do for money? Those were the questions he had pondered since going to court.

"Three o'clock," Joss answered as she walked into the living room. She had spent an hour preparing herself for the meeting with the woman who had a personal vendetta with John and Taylor. And her grandmother, she added to herself. But she was going to be the lady her grandmother would want her to be and try not to pass judgment. Still...

"When is Dad coming back?" Taylor asked hopefully. His eyes squinted to see if he could make out the truck. Nothing.

"He should be here soon." At least Joss hoped so. A minor emergency at Zoe's shoppe had taken John away just hours before the scheduled court visit, and Joss tried not to worry. But as the minutes ticked quickly by, her gut filled with dread. Where was he?

"It's starting to snow again," Taylor observed. Maybe a blizzard would come up and the social worker wouldn't be able to come, he hoped. But then, John would be caught in it. "I wish I could go skating," he stated wistfully.

"Maybe later. How about I make you a cup of hot chocolate?" Joss offered kindly to put his mind somewhere other than the present moment.

Taylor stood up and dropped the curtain back into place. "No, thank you. I'm going to finish my history assignment." Before Joss could protest, the boy ran out of the room. His feet echoed on the stairs, followed by the closing of the bedroom door.

"Great, Joss." She wiped a hand across her brow. Maybe she should give John a call and see what his status was. Dialing the number, she waited for an answer.

" _This is John Reese. I can't come to the phone. Please leave a message."_

Joss disconnected the call. She looked at her watch. Two hours. Could she make a wish on a snowflake that John would come back and Kara was the one not on time? _Not nice, Joss,_ her conscience reprimanded.

"I'll go put the tea kettle on. Nothing like a hot cup of tea to melt the icy exterior," Joss said to herself. Grandma Sara always said a good cup of tea could cure any problem. It couldn't hurt, could it?

"I hope you know what you're doing, Jocelyn," she muttered under her breath. She was going to have to reformulate her plan now that John wasn't there to back her up. Working intently in the kitchen, she didn't hear the footsteps on the wooden porch. The ringing of the doorbell caused her to jump.

Joss looked at her watch. How could Kara be here ninety minutes early? Or maybe it was Avon, she hoped. The questions and conspiracies flitted thru her mind as she peeked out the small window in the oak door. The willowy brunette with a sour expression stood alone and pressed the door bell twice to make her point.

Nope, it was her. Taking a deep breath, Joss opened the door. "Hello," she greeted in a courteous tone.

Kara paused for a moment. She had been expecting John, not the strange woman who had answered.

"I'm Kara Staton from Protective Services. I have a visit with John Reese and his charge," Kara returned with an undisguised air of authority.

"Isn't the visit at three?" Joss challenged. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that no matter what happened, a black mark was already beside John's and Taylor's name.

"It is, but I finished my one o'clock early and thought I'd pop in. Is this a bad time?" Kara wondered with false sincerity. The last thing she cared about was conveniencing anyone. Her job was to get results—one way or another.

Straightening her spine, Joss went into management mode. She knew that holier than thou tone when she heard it, and the false air of superiority that was supposed to intimidate. "No. Come inside," she offered, stepping aside. If there was a chance of beating her at her game, Joss had to get Kara on her turf.

"I suppose." Kara walked inside the living room and looked around. Nothing seemed to be out of place, although it appeared some cleaning had been done. The mahogany wood coffee table was sparkling like new, and the cob webs were gone from the far corner.

"Is John Reese here?" Kara asked.

"Unfortunately, no, he isn't. He had to run into town for a minor emergency. He'll be back shortly." Mentally, Joss childishly crossed her fingers to make her fib come true.

"Is Taylor with him?"

"No. He's upstairs doing his homework. Should I call him down?" Joss offered.

Kara shook her head slightly. "No. I'll wait until we've talked."

"Would you like something to drink? I just made tea." At that moment the tea kettle whistled. "Have a seat," Joss invited. "I'll be right back."

Kara took that moment to snoop. Picking up the stack of mail, she flipped thru the magazines and numerous envelopes containing junk mail, event notices, and bills. Nothing risque, but it didn't mean that John Reese wasn't hiding a secret life. And she was going to be the one to find it. Stepping over to the bookcase, she quickly scanned the titles. _Robinson Caruso, The Count of Monte Cristo, Alice in Wonderland, Tom Sawyer_ and _The Star Wars_ series were just a few of the titles she jotted down in her notebook.

"Anything interesting?" Joss asked as she walked back into the living room with a large tray covered with a teapot, cups and saucers, and numerous condiments.

Kara planted a saccharin sweet smile on her face and closed her notebook. "Just checking on Taylor's reading material. It appears some of it may be questionable."

Joss raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Well, I don't want to sound like a prude, but I believe children should not be subjected to such trash when it comes to books," Kara stated with disgust.

"Which book is that?" Before Kara could reply, Joss gestured toward the couch with a nod of her head. "Please, have a seat." Efficiently, she poured the steaming hot tea. "Lemon? Sugar? Cream?" she offered.

"Thank you. I can help myself," Kara declined. Her senses were on alert. There was something about the mystery woman she couldn't put her finger on, and she was curious enough to dig for information.

"I didn't catch your name," Kara threw the line out, hoping for a bite.

With the most professional smile pasted on her face, Joss replied, "Jocelyn Carter. Sara's granddaughter."

Nonplussed by the revelation, Kara finished preparing her drink. "I heard you were back in town. However, I thought you would have gone back to California." She would have to mark that down in her notes later when she got back to the office.

"I had some vacation on the books, so I thought I would come out and stay a while." Joss didn't go into specifics, however, it was none of Kara Staton's business anyhow. Sitting, watching the social worker drink tea in her cheap knock-off business suit, Joss felt her stomach turn. There was something devious about her that she couldn't put her finger on.

"What do you do?" Kara began to dig for information on the woman whom John Reese had left his charge with.

"I work for a resort contracting firm in L.A." No specifics, just the bare facts.

Kara tried to look impressed. "Golf resorts?"

"And B&B's. We have built some of the most well known resorts and weekend get-a-ways all over the world. We were even contracted to upgrade the golf resort at Camp David five years ago," Joss added without a trace of humility.

"So, you're well off." It wasn't a question.

"Heh. I'm sure my financial status has nothing to do with your visit today, but I am doing well." A feeler went up in Joss' brain. Kara was definitely looking for something to further her agenda, but she was being coy. Well, two could play that game.

"I thought that you might be providing some financial assistance to Mr. Reese."

"The thought never crossed my mind," Joss answered honestly. "But why would he need my help?" She fished for her own information.

"I've heard he's fallen on some tough times," Kara replied without elaborating.

"I see."

"How long do you plan on staying in the area?" Kara changed the subject—slightly.

"I have thirty days of vacation that ends right before Christmas."

"And your plans are...to do what?"

"Go back to California."

"Are you married? Seeing anyone? Co-habitating?"

Joss lowered her tea cup. "How is my personal life relevant to John's custody of Taylor?"

"I just want to make sure that Taylor isn't unduly influenced by your life-style. As you may know, children are impressionable. They see things and hear things, and that can help shape their lives in positive and negative ways," Kara reasoned as though she was the authoritarian on relationships and child development.

"I see. And my presence here could do what, exactly?" Joss volleyed back. If the woman could be nosy, so could she.

"A false sense of security. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." Oh, the woman was definitely cunning, Joss told herself. And the fact that Kara was barely hiding how she really felt, was helping reveal her true colours.

"His mother died when he was young, and he was abandoned by his father. I know your grandmother took him in and gave him a place to stay, but she didn't have the training to assist in Taylor's emotional and mental needs. He needs stability and a secure home so he can begin healing."

"And you don't think this is the place." Joss finished the unspoken dig.

"I think with you being here, you are sending a false message to Taylor that he might have a family," Kara admitted.

"I see." Joss tried to make sense of the irrational statement but failed.

"I just want to do what is right for Taylor. He deserves a happy home with two parents who can care for him and give him what he needs." Kara finished the tea and set down the cup and saucer. "Will you be selling the house?"

"I haven't given it much thought." And Joss hadn't. There had been many other things on her mind as of late, that she hadn't been able to think about contacting a realtor. "I would have to confer with John before I made any decisions."

"It might be best to sell."

"And go back to California?" Joss wondered, leaning over to refill her cup.

"As in: Give John the money so he can leave the area and never come back," Kara stated under her breath, but not low enough not to be heard. "Sure, why not?" Kara correctly innocently.

Not entirely shocked by the revelation, Joss pretended not to hear as she reached down beside the chair. "I think you might be interested in Taylor's reports." She handed over the manila folder containing Taylor's information.

Kara glanced quickly at the sheets with Taylor's progress. "May I speak to him?"

"Taylor!" Joss called out. A moment later the sound of feet coming down the narrow staircase was followed by the young slip of a boy who looked as though he had just woken from a nap.

"Yes, ma'am," Taylor politely addressed both women.

"Ms. Staton is here for your weekly evaluation." Joss watched with an eagle's eye at the way Taylor shrunk just a little at the mention of the woman's name. Taylor looked around for John but couldn't find him. His fingers began to itch.

"Hello Taylor." Kara stood up. "I see that you aced your history test." Her eyes flicked down the page. "And your Algebra grade has come up. Very good," she complimented.

"Yes, ma'am."

Kara closed the folder and smiled warmly. "I was wondering, since you have your afternoons free, would you like to come down to the community centre and hang with the other kids? Maybe play volleyball? Or swim?"

"No, ma'am." The stark look of fear was in Taylor's dark brown eyes at the thought of being around other people—especially kids.

"Just a couple of hours. We have snacks, and you can socialize with other kids," Kara tried to sweeten the deal without appearing to put pressure on him. "Right now, they are making turkeys and Christmas cards for the senior citizens' home."

"I already made a turkey for the refrigerator."

Kara's smile slipped a little at the rebuff. "That's...nice." Was the kid so dense that he couldn't see she was trying to help him?

"And I'm making snowflakes for Miss Zoe's store, so I can't go the centre," Taylor declined the invite.

"Is that so?" Kara shot a look Joss's way. She was positive Sara Carter's granddaughter had a hand in Taylor's attitude. "I'm sure she can give you some time off to mingle with other kids."

"I don't want to," Taylor replied stubbornly.

"But you need to be with other kids, Taylor," Kara prodded none too subtly. "It would do you good to get out."

"I already made ten dollars," Taylor revealed his windfall. "And I need to make some more so I can get the video game I want."

Kara's eyes flashed hot before they became guarded. "Is that so?" She handed the folder to Joss. "Okay. I think I have all I need from this visit."

"Oh, no. That's your copy," Joss said, declining the folder. She had a lot of what she needed just from the short meeting. Joss stood up and walked to the front door.

"I'll be filing my report later today," Kara said. She looked at Taylor. "I will be picking you up on Monday at two." She looked at Joss. "Tell John that I am sorry I missed him."

"I will do that." Joss pulled the door open. A blast of icy cold air blew into the room. Kara pulled her coat and gloves on. Pulling on her hat, Kara made her way down the porch steps, across the icy walkway, to the car.

Joss watched Kara start the car before backing out of the driveway. She stood still in the doorway until the car disappeared down the street. Then she closed the door.

"May I go upstairs?" Taylor mumbled in a small voice. Maybe if he put on some music and got lost in the new comic book, then maybe he could forget all about Kara Staton.

"Sure. Should I tell John—" Joss called out, but Taylor was gone in a flash. "Well, that went well," she said with false cheerfulness. The Grandfather clock chimed the hour. Had only forty minutes passed? And John still hadn't arrived back home. A part of her was worried. But there was nothing she could do except clean up and wait for John.

And hope she hadn't blown the visit.


	20. Chapter 20

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Joss thought she was going mad. It seemed like hours had passed as she paced the length of the living room and back, a thousand times. Her mind spun in twenty different directions as she imagined scenario after scenario—each worse than the one before.

"Where is John?!" she asked the room for the hundredth time. As if to answer her question, she heard the faint sound of tires crunching on the snow. Forgetting her coat, Joss rushed outside into the freezing cold. The prick of snow crystals hit her face, but she didn't care. There was only one thing on her mind, and it was sitting in the front seat.

"Where have you been?" she demanded hotly as John opened the door of the Sheriff's car and stepped out.

"And here I thought she would be happy to have you here safe and sound," Lionel quipped as he stepped out and opened the back door for Bear. Enthusiastic to be home, the canine barked loudly as he scampered in the snow.

"I'm not happy," Joss agreed. "I'm furious. Where have you been?" She cast a look at Lionel. Feeling the heat of her gaze, he cleared his throat and looked down.

"Joss, I—"

"I have been worrying about you. I tried to call you, but the phone went to voicemail. I didn't want to think the worst, but what was I supposed to, when you didn't even bother to show up?" Joss spoke so quickly, John could only stare.

"If you'll let me explain..."

"Explain?" Joss scoffed angrily. "Explain why I had to be left alone with that horrid woman who hates you with such a passion that I had wanted a good stiff drink to clear my head when she left?"

"Joss—"

"And let's not get started on how much she has it in for Taylor. That woman is either completely evil, or she is totally oblivious to how much that little boy is suffering. She's either cunningly smart, or a complete idiot. The only word that comes to mind is diabolical."

"Joss—"

"And the way she lit into me... Grilling me as though I was the bad guy; wanting to know every detail of my personal life—as though that is any of her business!" Joss's eyes snapped with fire. "Who does she think she is?"

John reached out and grabbed Joss's shoulders to hold her still.

"Joss, take a breath," he commanded. "In, out. If you'll let me explain, I'm sure you'll understand this wasn't my fault." A few snowflakes fell to land on Joss's hair. "But first, let's get inside where it's warm."

Slowly it dawned on her that she was standing out in the freezing cold without a coat, Joss shivered. "Okay," she relented. But she was still angry at all that had transpired to land her in the middle of a situation that she had no part of.

"Let me get Bear and the bags, and I will meet you inside," John ordered. Turning on her heel, Joss hurried back to the porch to wait. Hoping to speak to John alone, she was surprised to see Lionel following close on his heels.

"What is he doing here?" she asked, following the two men to the kitchen.

"Being a material witness. Since you are familiar with the law, I'm sure you know how relevant that can be when a lawyer is getting ready to grill a defendant," Lionel answered. "There is a such thing as 'due process'."

"Lionel—" John elbowed his friend slightly to hush.

"Remember, Boy Wonder, you do have a Fifth Amendment Right to remain silent and avoid self-incrimination," Lionel supplied in a loud whisper.

"What do you know about being a lawyer, other than running a foul of the law too many times to count?" Joss shot back.

"How do you think I became familiar with it?" Lionel replied with a Cheshire grin. "But before you decide to light into John, let me tell you that he has a perfectly logical defense."

Joss stood with her hands on her hips. "Oh, this should be good. Considering you skipped out on your appointment, I'm all ears."

"The truck broke down," John said.

"It broke down?" Joss repeated. "And you didn't bother to call?"

"Phone was dead."

Joss held up her hands. "The truck broke down _and_ the phone died?" she asked with incredulity that John would actually think she would buy that excuse.

"Yes," the men chimed in unison.

"And I'm supposed to believe that Lionel was conveniently driving by when he picked you up?" Joss threw the idea against the wall. What were the odds of it sticking?

"Actually, I was out there for three hours before he found me," John replied honestly.

"Yeah, I saved his life," Lionel piped up. "Not that you have to thank me or anything."

Joss ignored the sarcastic remark. "What happened?" she asked, her tone was softer.

"I was driving back from Zoe's, when all of a sudden the engine died," John said simply as though it made all the sense in the world, but he didn't understand. He couldn't. Did vehicle engines just die at a moment's notice? Without warning?

Joss frowned. "You mean stalled?" Was it possible that John wasn't at fault? Nah, too easy. Too simple.

"No, died."

"Like dead. No power. Going nowhere fast," Lionel clarified.

"I got it, Lionel," John muttered under his breath.

"Sure you do, Superman."

"So I am to believe the truck just decided to pick today to die in the middle of nowhere?" Joss asked with a shake of her head.

"I tried to call, but service was down." John reached into his back jeans pocket and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Joss. "Go ahead, try it."

Joss pressed the power several times, but the gadget refused to respond.

"Okay, you're right," she conceded. "But that doesn't explain—"

"I think it explains everything, sweetheart," Lionel interrupted.

"Don't call me 'sweetheart'," Joss growled.

"Trust me, it isn't an endearment."

"Okay, break it up," John said as he put himself directly between the warring parties. "Respective corners, please. Okay, Joss, tell me what happened with Kara."

"That social worker came over. After she inquired about you and got nowhere, she started to pry into my life. She wanted to know everything."

"That's her job."

"Is it also her job to imply that you and I have something going on under Taylor's nose?" Joss huffed at the insult.

Lionel seemed chastened as he grimaced. "Yikes."

"Yeah, yikes is right. Then she talked to Taylor," Joss continued. John muttered some unintelligible under his breath. "She wants to get him enrolled in after school programs."

Lionel's eyes widened. "She can't do that!" He turned to look at John. "Can she do that?"

"I'll have to ask Sam." John let his breath out in one long frustrated stream. "How did Taylor take it?"

"After she left, he ran upstairs. I tried knocking on his door." There wasn't a snowball's chance that he would open the door for her, but at least she could say she tried.

"This could not have come at a worse time." Although no time would have been great, John thought to himself. Why did the truck have to break down?

"Look, Wonderboy, I gotta get back on the road. If I hurry, I should be able to meet the tow truck. Want me to have them bring it here?" Lionel asked.

"Might as well since all the repair shops will be closed tomorrow and Friday."

"Want me to pick you up in the morning? We can throw the pigskin and then watch the game." It wasn't much, but he had to suggest something to brighten his best friend's mood and get it off Kara.

"Sure." John's mind wasn't on Thanksgiving or football—it was on Taylor.

"I'll call before I leave. Til then, relax. I'm going to talk to Sam." Lionel patted John on the back. "Joss," he acknowledged.

"Lionel," she returned the acknowledgment. She waited to hear the front door closed. "Fungus."

"Don't start on him, Joss. If he hadn't driven by, I would still be walking home."

"He rubs me the wrong way, John."

"Well, you're sort of returning in kind."

"He had no right calling me 'sweetheart'," Joss stated, her mouth tightened.

"Right now, I don't care."

"You don't care? He's your friend."

John took a deep breath. "Look, Joss. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. It's going to be the first one without Sara, and the mood is probably going to be bleak—no matter how great the turducken is. I'm one step forward, two steps back right now; and Taylor's well-being is being jeopardized. I don't care about you and Lionel. Sort it out, fix it, or call a truce. I don't care. Right now I need to take care of my kid."

With that, John turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen. Closing her eyes, Joss pressed two fingers to her temple and tried to massage the headache coming on.

There was nothing she could say to change what had been done, so she turned to the bags on the table and started to put the groceries away.  
********

John knocked lightly on the door. "Taylor?" he called out. "May I come in?"

He heard the click of the lock being turned. He tried the knob.

"Taylor?" he asked as his eyes adjusted to the room's darkness. He thought he saw movement under the bedspread.

"Son, can we talk?"

"She wants to take me away," Taylor sounded forlorn.

John sat down on the edge of the bed. "It may seem that way," he started carefully, "but I don't think so."

"I don't want to go be with the other kids," Taylor pleaded anxiously.

"I know you don't, but we may not have a choice."

"I can't. I won't."

"Taylor."

"What if they laugh at me? What if they think I'm some kind of freak?" Taylor speculated wildly as his imagination went into overdrive.

John looked sympathetically at the youngster. "That's not going to happen, Taylor. I'll be there with you."

"You don't understand." How in the world could Taylor begin to explain everything happening in his head.

John laid his hand lovingly on Taylor's shoulder. "Do you want to tell me?"

Taylor hung his head.

"No."

"Look, sport, I'm sorry that I wasn't here when the social worker came by, and you can hold it against me. It was my fault. But we have to put that behind us."

Taylor's head hung lower.

"We have to work with her," John echoed Sam's advice. "The more we do, the faster all of this will be over."

Taylor sniffled. "Promise?"

John nodded. "I promise. Look at me." He put his finger under Taylor's chin to lift his head so they could see eye to eye. "Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and we are going to Lionel and Sam's, okay? We'll talk to Sam and hear what she has to say, but until then, we're not going to worry about it."

"Okay."

"I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you." John crossed his heart to seal his promise. "You have my word."

Confident that his hero and protector would never break a promise, Taylor gave a smile—shaky but it was there.

"Now come down to dinner. Grilled cheese and tomato soup is on the menu."

"Yum." Taylor started to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. "Dad, what if I have to go?"

John wrapped his arm around Taylor's thin shoulders. "We'll worry about that when it happens. Let's go."

Side by side, the left the room to head downstairs.


	21. Chapter 21

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Joss stepped out of the truck and closed the door with her hip. In her hands she carried a small basket filled with a variety of cheeses and a bottle of wine. She shivered in the cold.

"Do you need some help?" she asked John who was trying to balance the boxes of pies and close the door.

"I got it." With his foot he slammed the door shut. He walked over to Joss.

"Are you sure it was wise to let Taylor ride with Lionel?" Joss asked. Her gaze flicked down the long dirt road to the main road. She had kept an eye on the patrol car as it followed them, but once they rounded the second S curve, the car had disappeared. John hadn't seemed worried about his friend taking off with his charge, so she had tried to shrug it off. Still, something didn't sit well.

"Lionel is a lot more responsible than you give him credit for, Joss," John reassured in defense of his friend. "Remember, he does have a badge and a gun."

"I stand behind my statement."

"One of these days he's going to change your mind."

The front door swung open before Joss could respond. Smiling happily at her guests arrival, Samantha stepped aside to let them into the foyer.

"You made it! Here, let me take your coats," she offered.

"I'm going to put the pies in the fridge," John said and quickly hurried down the hallway to the back of the house.

"Joss?"

"Sure." Joss shrugged out of her coat and handed it to her hostess. Samantha placed it on a hanger in the side closet.

"I see you rode over in the truck. I thought it wasn't working," Samantha observed with a confused look.

"It started right up, so John and I came over together, and Taylor and Bear are riding with Lionel," Joss explained the sudden change of plans.

"Hmmm." The sound of a siren filled the air. Samantha pulled back the curtain on one of the side windows. "Speak of the devil."

The siren abruptly cut off to be followed by the slamming of car doors. Then the front door flew open and a blast of cold blew inside, followed by Lionel. The whirlwind named Taylor was close on his heels. Bear barked and happily danced around.

"Hi, Aunt Sam," Taylor greeted. "It was so cool. Uncle Lionel let me turn on the lights and siren," he gushed in an uncharacteristic manner. Joss was almost taken aback by the transformation of the sullen and withdrawn kid she knew, to the happy, bubbly one standing in front of her.

"He did, did he?" Samantha said. She gave her husband a knowing look.

"Where are those pies?" Lionel changed the subject, rubbing his hands together. He smacked his lips overdramatically.

"John took them to the kitchen. And no, they are for dessert," Samantha discouraged any plan to have pie first. She leaned over and kissed him quickly.

Lionel pouted. "Aw, man."

"Don't worry, Lionel, I brought an extra one just for you," John said as he joined the group. Lionel slapped him on the back.

"Now this is what I call a pal. What do you say we go out back and throw the football before dinner is finished?" Lionel suggested.

"Dad taught me a new spin when I throw it," Taylor chimed in.

Lionel raised his eyebrow. "Oh, he did, did he? Grab the ball. Let's go." Taylor's feet raced down the hallway. The two men followed close behind. The click-clack of canine nails on the hardwood floor was silenced by the slamming of a door.

Alone in the suddenly quiet foyer, the two women waited for the other to speak.

"Wanna get a drink?" Samantha offered.

"Sounds great. What do you have?" Joss followed behind, her eyes looked around at the impressive floor plan of her friend's home. The delicious aroma of turducken baking in the large oven, and potatoes—along with other items—boiling on the industrial sized stove, wafted to tickle her nose. Her stomach rumbled loudly.

Samantha walked into the wide, spacious kitchen and pulled open the door on the fridge. "Champagne, red Kool-aid—strawberry, I think; iced tea, sparkling grape juice, and white wine," she listed off the contents.

"White wine."

"White wine it is." Samantha pulled out the bottle. "Would you get the glasses? Third door on your left; middle shelf." Joss did as she was asked. Samantha topped off both glasses and handed one to Joss.

"It's been a while since I've had some wine," Joss confessed, taking a sip. "Oh, this is exquisite."

"I have to spoil myself after a hard day." Samantha leaned against the counter. "I'm glad you showed up."

"I'm glad you invited me. Can I help with anything?" Joss offered her limited kitchen assistance.

"No," Samantha declined. "Lionel has it under control. Heard you had a run-in with Kara Stanton."

"Heh. That's an understatement. The woman is vicious in her hatred for John and Taylor." It still confused Joss how a complete stranger could hold contempt for someone they didn't even know.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"She had no problem accusing me of impropriety in my personal life," Joss groused and took a big sip of the wine. The expensive Chardonnay did little to kill the bad taste that was still in her mouth.

"She was trying to get under your skin. I doubt she's going to investigate you to use in her case, but I wouldn't put it past her."

"Oh, I knew exactly what she was doing," Joss confirmed bitterly. "It was all I could do not to throw her out of the house."

Samantha chuckled. "I would have loved to see that. I'm still kicking myself for not having my recorder on when she made that threat toward John."

Joss looked startled at the news. "She threatened John?" When had that happened, and why hadn't John said anything?

"Nothing I can divulge, but I'm going to take care of it. All I have to do is get the goods on her. How was her attitude toward Taylor?"

"Well...she was pretending to be interested in his well-being, but she kept pressuring Taylor..." Joss shook her head at the memory "...it was all I could do not to throttle her. That woman has an ax to grind, and she is going to use that little boy to make it happen."

"That's why I'm glad you're here to help me in the office; now I can devote more time to getting to the bottom of that woman's vindictiveness. Once I do, I'm going to make sure she never hurts another person again. That's a promise." The finality of Samantha's words made Joss swallow hard. There was a dark streak deep down inside that she hadn't seen before. For a tiny moment she almost felt sorry for Kara Staton.

Wanting to change the subject, Joss eyed the oak door cabinets and Mexican tile flooring. "Nice house." No, nice was an understatement. Her grandmother's farm house could fit in the foyer of the Fusco residence. Even her penthouse paled in comparison, and she once crowed that it was the envy of the PCH area. Envy was not part of her vocabulary...until now.

"It is."

"How? I mean, the firm...or does being Sheriff pay that much?" Joss wondered.

Samantha laughed. "No. It's mine." She held up her hand. "Before you wonder, my parents were wealthy. Daddy was...a philanthropist and entrepreneur of sorts. And when they died in a plane crash, they left everything to me."

"I'm sorry."

Samantha shrugged. "I was ten when it happened. Got stuck in some pretty lousy homes with relatives I don't care to see again." It had taken years to get over the bitterness and loneliness, but she was a better woman now with a good man and a bright future. The past was the past—unless it came back to haunt, then all bets were off.

"But the money..."

"Held in trust until I'm thirty-five. Five more years to get the golden nest egg," Samantha said without much feeling. "But when I saw this house, I knew I wanted it; I had to have it. So, I hacked into the database and extracted what I needed to make it happen. It was my wedding present to Lionel," she relayed as though she was reciting the recipe for a cake.

For the second time in five minutes Joss didn't know what to say at the revelation that her new friend and boss was a computer hacking bank thief. "Oh."

The dark cloud over Samantha passed as she smiled broadly. "Speaking of Lionel... You don't like him very much."

Joss considered lying, then changed her mind. "No, I don't."

"May I ask why?"

"He has always rubbed me the wrong way. Even when we were kids, there was something about him I couldn't put my finger on." Joss brought the glass to her lips. "Maybe it was that he was always getting in trouble and taking John down with him."

"You mean mailbox batting practice?" Samantha's lips curved in a tiny smile. Joss opened her mouth to reply but was cut off. "I know about it. I know about everything he did before Sheriff Sullivan set him on the straight and narrow."

"Even 'The French Connection'?"

"Daring. Illegal. But overall I have to commend him for his capitalist attitude."

Joss was stupefied. Did Samantha, a practicing officer of the court, actually defend an illegal act? Had they really gone to the same law school?

"He cheated—on a major French test." Was Samantha clueless, or completely taken in by the legendary Lionel Fusco? Obviously, they weren't lying when they said love is blind. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes.

"And he still failed—which led him to not graduate and have to repeat French in summer school, and that caused him to lose out on his football scholarship," Samantha confided.

Joss looked up in surprise. "Wait. What?!"

"You didn't know?" Samantha looked sympathetic at Joss's expression.

"No. John never said a word," Joss murmured. Or had he? She was fifteen and hanging out with her girlfriends at the local ice cream parlor and dreaming over the latest music heartthrob. That was the summer she had tried out for cheerleading squad. And it was the summer before John went into the Navy.

"Lionel was pretty embarrassed by it."

"That doesn't excuse his running with Stills and Simmons. They tore this town up." She remembered the vandalized barns and cars stolen for joy rides and dozens of destroyed mailboxes.

"See it from his point of view, Joss. He lost his scholarship, his best friend went into the service, then his dad kicked him out of the house. He turned to drinking. He was lost."

"That's no excuse."

Samantha nodded. "I guess you're right." In the distance the faint sounds of football calls rang in the crisp autumn air. She parted the curtain and looked out at the three man game in progress in the backyard.

"What happened? What changed his mind?" Joss asked softly, her voice breaking the silence in the room.

"Your grandmother."

Joss was taken aback by the unexpected answer. "Grandma Sara?"

"She rescued him and set him up with Sheriff Sullivan. He got Lionel into the local college and a job at the department. Five years ago when he retired, Lionel ran for his post. He's gotten numerous awards."

"Heh."

"Sometimes people change. Some for the better; some who think they don't deserve better."

"I guess." Joss looked out the window at the exact moment Lionel caught a pass thrown by John. The moment he turned to run, Bear got tangled up in his legs and caused him to land on the ground with a thud. For a moment her heart skipped a beat at the thought he might be hurt, and she watched Taylor walk over to lend a hand. Lionel took it, but at the last second he pulled Taylor down to begin tickling him. The sound of laughter and barks reassured her that everything was okay.

"He is a great guy, Joss. He is definitely someone you want in your corner when the chips are down." Samantha let the curtain fall. "I hope someday he can prove to you just how great a guy he really is."

Joss's only response was a weak smile. At that moment the back door burst open and Taylor came running inside.

"Smells great! Is it time to eat? I'm starving!"  
*********

"I'm so full I could burst," Joss groaned from her place on the far side of the couch. If this had been her last meal on earth, she could honestly say she would die a happy woman.

"I think I did," Samantha one-upped. She leaned her head back on the back of the couch and closed her eyes.

"What did you put those pies, Wonderboy?" Lionel slurred from the leather recliner adjacent to the large screen TV. A football player ran down across the field until the whistle blew, but no one in the room was paying attention.

"The same as I always put in."

"Well, whatever you did, you outdid yourself this time," Lionel complimented. How could he care about a football game when he was slipping into a food coma?

"Thanks." John nudged the little boy curled up in his lap. "What about you, Taylor? You get enough to eat?"

"Yes."

With slight interest, Joss half-watched the game. "Are you blind? That was pass interference," she stated, coming fully awake. Her eyes watched the game, while all the other eyes in the room were on her. "Automatic first down! Automatic first down!" She felt the looks. "What?"

Lionel and John shared a glance.

"You know football?" John asked cautiously. As far back as he could remember, Joss had never shown interest in the game. She even refused to come to see him practice.

"Yeah. I dated Mackenzie Reynolds, and it sort of came with package," she replied as though it was an everyday occurrence.

Taylor sat straight up. His eyes were wide with surprise. "You dated Mack Reynolds?! The Running Back?!"

"Yeah." Joss felt her cheeks grow warm. "Well, if you can call it that. We went out a few times; I got to go to a few games. I also have season tickets."

"Wow," Taylor breathed. She knew someone famous. Had he finally found something to admire about Sara's granddaughter?

"Maybe Joss can get you his autograph," John suggested.

"I guess I could." Joss saw a bit of admiration shining in Taylor's brown eyes, and it tugged on her heart. "I have his number somewhere. I think I can get you his autograph."

But just as sudden as the admiration appeared, it disappeared.

"No, thank you," Taylor declined the offer. He turned to look at John. "Can I have some ice cream?"

"Sport, you just finished dinner," John protested.

Samantha stood up. "Ice cream sounds great." She extended her hand out. "Joss, would you like to come with me?"

Wanting to get away from the staring, inquisitive eyes focused on her, Joss stood up. "Sure." Together, the pair left the room.

A heavy silence filled the air.

"So, what about them Cowboys?" Lionel piped up rhetorically.  
*******

John guided the truck up the gravel driveway, then threw the engine in park. The duel sound of snoring came from the backseat.

"We're here," John said as he switched off the engine.

"Oh," Joss groaned, stretching to get the blood flowing in her limbs. "I don't think I can move."

"I barely have enough energy to carry Taylor in, so I guess you're on your own."

"Such a gentleman." Joss opened the door and shivered at the cold air on her warm skin. "Think we need to make a fire."

Bear bounded out of the truck cab and ran across the yard to his favourite tree. He barked happily as he danced in the moonlight.

Joss grabbed the paper bag filled with Thanksgiving leftovers. John pulled the sleeping child into his arms and held him close as he used his hip to close the truck door. With careful, even steps, he made his way up the path to the porch. Joss hurried to get the front door for him.

"I'll put these away and start a fire," Joss offered. "You can get Taylor into bed."

"Thanks. If you want, I can open that bottle of Pinot and we can watch 'Miracle On 34th Street," he invited.

"I'm pretty tired. I'm going to put the leftovers away, then go to bed. I want to get to the office early and try to finish the filing," Joss declined the invite. She didn't miss the flicker of hurt in his blue eyes. She gave herself a mental kick and wondered how she could change her mind.

"That's okay. I'm pretty tired too. Goodnight Joss." John turned to head up the stairs.

Rebuffed, Joss felt a slight pain in her heart. "Goodnight, John." She took the bag into the kitchen and put away the items.

Standing beside the couch, Bear looked at the empty space where his master had stood, then at where Joss had been. Confused at suddenly being left alone, he went to his bed beside the fireplace, turned around three times before lying down. Resting his head on his paws, he let out a small whine.


	22. Chapter 22

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Balancing her coffee and the brown paper bag in one hand, Joss fished the spare key out of her pants pocket with the other and used it to unlock the office door. Turning on the lights, she set her purse on the desk closest and took a sip of the coffee. What had been boiling hot when she bought it at the convenient store, was now lukewarm. She blanched at the first sip.

"Well, at least I don't have to worry about my bagel," she said aloud to the empty room. Joss took off her heavy cotat and hung it on the tree next to the door. Sitting down at the desk, she took out her simple breakfast and laid it out.

"Music," she said and turned on the station favourited on her phone. The sounds Adult Contemporary music filled the room. A key in the door made her stop still.

"Oh, Joss, you're here," Samantha greeted with a bit of surprise in her voice. It had been a long night, and she had tossed and turned. Desperate for anything to help her relax, she had decided to come into work. But Joss Carter was the last person she had expected to see.

"Hi Sam."

"I thought you might take the day off and go shopping." But in a way she was relieved that Joss hadn't.

"The roads looked bad. Besides, the day after Thanksgiving shopping is not my definition of fun," Joss replied simply.

"I'm glad you're here. Maybe I can pick your brain."

Joss shrugged. "Sure. Have you eaten breakfast?"

"No," Samantha admitted. Her mind had been on everything but food.

Joss took half of the bagel and the container of cream cheese, and put it on a serviette. She pushed it toward her boss. "Here."

"Thanks." Samantha took a bite. "Mmmm..." Quietly the women ate the meager breakfast. When done, Samantha wiped her hands and mouth with the serviette and tossed it in the wastebasket.

"So, what are you doing here?"

"Wanted to get some work done," Joss admitted. "With all that you have going on, I think I can ease your load a little."

Samantha smiled. "I appreciate it."

Joss looked closely, taking in the weariness in Samantha's features. "What's wrong?"

"I can't stop thinking about Kara Stanton."

"I see."

"What is her agenda? What does she have against John?" Samantha paced the room. "I have racked my brain trying to think of the link they have, but I keep coming up empty."

"What about a background check?" Joss suggested, although she had no doubt one had been done.

"Twice. I even had Lionel run one. Nothing. It's like she came out of nowhere."

"Did she serve with John?"

Samantha shook her head. "No. She was never in the military. Neither was any of her family." She sighed. "If I don't find out what's going on in her head..." The sound of the fax machine ringing interrupted. A moment later, two sheets of paper appeared. Samantha went over to pluck them out. Her eyes scanned the information.

"Oh, no."

Seeing the sudden change in demeanor, Joss hurried over. "What's wrong?"

"It's from Child Services. Apparently Kara got her way." She handed the papers to Joss. "A request was made to have Taylor get enrolled in after-school activities at the local youth centre starting Monday."

"What?! Wait! Can she do that?" Joss asked. Her eyes quickly scanned the official request. There is was in black and white. Taylor had no say. For that matter, neither did John. At the bottom of the page was Judge Gates's signature approving the recommendation.

"Not only can she, but she did." Samantha grabbed her purse and car keys. "I need to go and tell John and Taylor. Can you hold down the fort for a couple of hours?" she asked.

Joss handed back the Court Order. "I can. I'll just finish filing."

Samantha smiled, but her eyes were bleak. "Thanks, Joss. I'll bring lunch." She rushed out the door.

"Drive safe," Joss called out as the door closed hard.

All alone in the room, the music seemed louder than before. But Joss had no desire to sing. She couldn't put her finger on why her gut felt as though it was full of lead, but things were about to change. And if she had to put a bet down, it wasn't for the better.  
*********

Samantha pulled the car into the snow covered gravel driveway and put the engine in park. She had had twenty-five minutes and three stop lights to pull herself together and put on a brave face for Taylor. But when she looked at the old farmhouse, she felt her resolve begin to crumble.

"Oh, Kara, how could you do this to Taylor?" she asked rhetorically. Sighing, she grabbed the papers and opened the car door. The blast of icy wind whipped her hair across her face, momentarily blinding her. She pushed back the locks, holding them in a makeshift ponytail with her hand. On carefully balanced feet, she covered the walk way, careful not to slip.

Climbing the steps to the porch, she peeked thru the window to see if anyone was at home. She spied Taylor on the coffee table with a game remote in his hands.

Raising her fist, she knocked. A few moments later the front door opened.

"Aunt Sam. What are you doing here?" Taylor asked in surprise to see the lawyer at the door.

Samantha smiled broadly. Only Taylor could brighten a bleak moment. "Hi Taylor. Is John here?" she wondered.

"Yeah. He's in the workshop finishing up the manager for Aunt Zoe. Come in. I'll get him." Taylor unlocked the screen door. Samantha pushed the handle and stepped inside the living room. She looked at the paused screen on the TV.

"Seal Team Six?" she inquired.

Taylor looked sheepish as he admitted, "Yes, ma'am. But I finished my homework first. Dad won't have it any other way."

Samantha rubbed his hair lovingly. "Thanks my good boy."

"Stay here." Taylor ran from the room. Samantha could hear his muffled voice but not the words. A couple of minutes later John walked into the room.

"Sam. What's wrong?" he asked. He could see on her face that something had happened involving Taylor.

"Hi John. I hate having to drop in on such short notice," Samantha made the excuse, weak as it seemed. "I got something this morning concerning Taylor." She handed the papers over. She watched as John's face flashed hard in anger, then softened with defeat.

"Is this true?" he asked hopefully. Deep down inside he knew it wasn't, but he had to ask anyway.

"It is."

"When?"

"Monday. Three o'clock. She is going to pick him up."

"Can't we petition a counter argument against?" John suggested an alternative.

"Sorry. It's iron clad. She got her claws in the judge. All we can do now is play the game until Christmas."

"Can I be with him?"

Samantha shook her head. "No. They want to monitor him in a group setting. But, you get to pick him up afterward." She offered that small bit of comfort.

"Sam, he has..." John lowered his voice "...a nervous habit."

"I know, John."

"What if he...does something?"

"It's only for an hour," she assured him. "Nothing will go wrong. I promise."

John looked over the papers again. He felt his heart sink. He was just getting Taylor out in public, but this... Everything he and Sara had worked for over the past two years could be destroyed. All he could do was pray for strength.

"It's going to be alright. Do you want me to talk to him?" Samantha volunteered.

"No, I can do this," he declined the offer. "It's better if he hears it from me."

"I understand." Samantha glanced at her watch. "I should get back to the office. I have a meeting with a client at one."

"Is Joss there?" John asked.

"She is. I'll see you and Taylor Monday at four-thirty."

"Thanks, Sam."

"If you need anything, give us a call. I know Lionel would like to go ice fishing next weekend."

"I'll call him."

Samantha opened the screen door and stepped out on to the porch. "Bye."

"Bye." John closed the door behind her.  
*********

Joss balanced the box of food and bags in her hands as she stepped out of the car. Although they had leftovers in the fridge, she thought it might be best if she bought dinner. She wasn't sure how John was taking the news, but she wasn't going to make him cook.

"Hi everyone," she greeted to the empty room. She looked around. The TV was off. No music. Not even the sound of the dog snoring in his basket.

"John?" she called out. "Taylor?" She walked to the dining room and set the food on the table. "Anyone home?"

She made her way to the kitchen, to the workshop. Empty. Her brow furrowed. The truck was outside, so they had to be home.

"John?"

She made her way back to the main room. Maybe they were upstairs. Carefully on tiptoe, she ascended the steep staircase. It was eerily quiet. Then she heard John baritone from the bedroom. A sniffled sob was the response.

Joss knocked on the door frame. John looked up from where he sat on the edge of Taylor's bed.

"Joss."

"Is everything okay?" she asked with concern. She looked at the small figure lying prone on the twin bed. A memory of a little girl lying in that same bed flashed quickly. She shook her head.

"Taylor's just..." How could he explain?

"I know," she confessed. "I was there when the order came in."

"It's not going to be that bad, sport," John soothed and patted Taylor's back. "You'll have...fun."

"I don't wanna go," Taylor said defiantly, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"We don't have a choice."

Taylor turned over on his back. Tear tracks stained his cheeks. "You say we always have a choice."

"And sometimes the choice is taken out of our hands."

"So, you were wrong?" His eyes dared John to lie to him.

"Well, you _do_ have a choice _not_ to go," John amended. "However, there will be consequences."

"What if I tell the judge no?"

"He'll tell you it's the law."

"Taylor," Joss spoke up, "I know how you feel. When I was kid, I felt isolated."

"Joss..." John cautioned under his breath.

"I was small for my age, and I didn't really have any friends." Joss felt Taylor's and John's eyes on her, but she continued. "My grandma—Grandma Sara—took me down to the youth centre to meet people—get out more."

"And did you like it?" Taylor asked.

"Not at first. But then I found out that they had a choir and dance, and I wanted to go every day."

"You think I'll like it?"

"There might be a few kids that might have the same interests as you," she encouraged. "You never know; you might make a few friends."

"Are you sure?" Taylor tried not to sound scared. But if Joss understood how he felt, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"I promise." Joss crossed her heart.

"Okay."

Had Joss cleared a hurdle with Taylor? From the weak smile he gave her, it seemed so. She felt good.

"I'll go," Taylor conceded.

"That's my son," John praised.

"If anyone is hungry, I brought dinner home. Roast beef sandwiches, soup and cheesecake," Joss said.

"I like cheesecake," Taylor replied. "With cherries."

Joss looked surprised at the revelation. "Me too."

"Ugh!" John responded.

"Dad doesn't."

"The only thing that goes on cheesecake is strawberry sauce." John stood up and stretched.

"That's what he thinks," Joss whispered conspiratorally. Taylor giggled.

"Come on, you two," John ordered. "There is a cheesecake to be desicrated."

A small bond had been created between Joss and Taylor, he thought to himself. It wasn't anything he would have put money on, but if it got Taylor out of the house, and kept him out of jail for contempt of court, then he would welcome it.

"Come on, Bear," he called to the dog. The canine trotted out of the room on eager feet. There was food downstairs, and with any luck he might be able to sneak a bite.

Stomach rumbling, John followed the trio.


	23. Chapter 23

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

One ring. Two rings.

"'Quinn Enterprises'; this is Sameen; how may I direct your call?"

"Good morning, Sameen; how is my cat?"

"Joss! Oh, it's so good to hear from you! Please tell me you are coming back soon!" Sameen rushed breathlessly into the receiver.

"So, you miss me?"

"Is the sky blue? Is the ocean wet?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"It's been two weeks." Two long weeks of having to keep Cal Beecher at bay and in the dark about her boss's sudden departure to parts unknown.

"I doubt the place is falling apart."

"No, but it's just not the same without your take-charge attitude making people shake in their shoes. They have had to put up with Ternney's monotone."

"That's nice."

Sameen gave a short laugh. "Next time, say it like you mean it. When are you coming back?"

"Soon."

"Are you sure this is about the house and not the gorgeous guy you have to room with?" Sameen teased.

"He's not gorgeous," Joss quickly corrected.

"Unless the house is a mansion, I'm sticking with my first theory."

"How's my cat?" Joss changed the subject.

"I think he misses you. Do you want me to ship him to you?" Sameen suggested.

"I'll be home in less than a month," Joss evaded.

"Until then, I have to put up with being woken up at 2 am every morning."

"I'm sorry."

"That's why I don't believe it's all about the house."

"Did you finish the filing?" Joss asked.

"The filing and the letters and the inventory and the moving of your office..."

"Wait! Did you say my office is being moved?!"

Sameen bit her lip and inwardly cursed herself. "That was supposed to be a surprise."

"What do you mean?" Joss demanded.

"The Higher Ups decided to rennovate and move everyone around. Guess who gets Cal's old office?"

"I liked where I was."

"Don't shoot the messenger. They came and cleaned out your office on Friday, and I have had the joy of fighting with your new receptionist over where things belong," Sameen said angrily. Opening the desk drawer, she pulled out a nail file and began to shape her nails.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"I suppose it was a surprise...until I let the cat out of the bag." But there was no shame in her tone. As far as she was concerned, Joss was her boss, not Cal Beecher.

"Thanks."

"I heard thru the grapevine that a major promotion is in the works. I'm laying my money on you."

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't want to be partner."

"Whatever. No one deserves it more than you, Joss. You closed six major deals in one year. The quarterly budget reports are making the investors happier than a kid on Christmas morning. If anyone should be beside Quinn, it's you."

"I don't know..." Did she want that responsibility?

"If you don't get it, I'm quitting. Oh, yeah, Cal keeps asking about you."

Joss hesitated. "What did you tell him?"

Sameen shrugged but keep filing her nails. "That you're trapped in a snowbank."

"You lied?"

"It was that, or you're too busy getting on with your life to talk to him. Which I presume is true. "

"Comforting."

"Why haven't you talked to him?"

"It's...complicated."

Sameen gave a sarcastic snort. "Complicated my—"

"Sameen," Joss warned.

"Big toe," she finished. "Admit it, your feelings have changed."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joss deflected.

"You have a thing for John."

"I'm not having this conversation."

"It's more of an observation," Sameen corrected.

"Good-bye Sameen."

"If Cal asks, when should I tell him that you're coming back?"

"Christmas Eve. Bye Sameen."

"Bye Joss."

Sameen replaced the receiver on the phone cradle. Although Joss hadn't said much, she would still bet that the not so gorgeous handyman was playing a role in her evasiveness. Not that Joss was exactly teeny-bopper over Cal Beecher, but her attitude had definitely changed since heading out to the Keystone State.

"I see you're hard at work," Cal Beecher greeted with his dazzling, mega-watt smile. But his eyes said something else.

"Break time—and I chipped a nail closing the file drawer," Sameen replied smoothly.

"You're not going to file a workman's comp report?"

Sameen smiled sweetly but continued with her task. "It was just a chip."

"Document it, just to be on the safe side." Cal looked around the nearly empty office. "Everything has been moved?"

"More or less." Sameen blew on her fingers. "Does Joss know?" she bluffed.

"Have you heard from her?"

"She called. She asked about her cat." Not exactly a lie.

"Did she say when she was coming back?" Cal's tone was smooth as silk as he tried to draw her in and reveal any and all secrets. But Sameen was too smart for such shenanigans.

"Christmas Eve. Maybe. I don't know."

"Five weeks. What is she doing that requires being on vacation for four more weeks?"

"Settling her grandmother's estate."

"Where is this estate? Hyannis Port?" Cal joked. Unless it was the size of the Hearst Castle or the Kennedy Compound, what estate took seven weeks to settle?

"She didn't say; I didn't ask." Again, not exactly a lie, but if Joss wanted Cal to know where she was, she would have told him. It wasn't her place to reveal information that wasn't hers to give, Sameen told herself.

"Well, when she calls again, tell her that I would appreciate her calling to let me know she's okay."

Sameen picked up the notepad and scribbled across it. "Making a note to myself right now."

"Have a good day, Ms. Shaw."

"Thank you, Mr. Beecher." Sameen waited until Cal had exited the room before tearing off the paper and balling it up. Taking aim, she tossed it toward the wastebasket.

"I'll tell her...not likely." Picking up the file, she returned to her task.  
*********

Kara guided the car beside the curb and turned off the engine. "Here we are," she said happily.

Ducking his head, Taylor said nothing. He closed his eyes and wished he was anywhere else.

Kara unsnapped her seatbelt. "Come one. We need to get you registered." Looking in the side mirror, she waited for the traffic to die down before exiting the car. Reluctantly Taylor followed. Standing on the sidewalk, he shivered in the cold wind. Being with strangers staring at him was nothing compared to how much he hated the wind.

"Let's go inside." Kara tried to take hold of Taylor's hand, but he pulled away and grasped his book bag tighter. Kara's face hardened as she made the mental note. Reaching over, she pulled the heavy door open.

Taylor looked at the spacious room. On the walls were pictures—some framed, others hand drawn. In the corner stood a Christmas tree. Underneath the wide bottom branches were dozens of gift-wrapped boxes and packages.

"May I help you?" the pretty redhead behind the counter greeted.

"Kara Stanton with Child Services," she announced. "We have a three o'clock appointment." She pulled the court order from her briefcase and handed it to the woman.

"I see. Well, Taylor, we're glad to have you here. I'm sure you're going to have a lot of fun." She slid a clipboard across the desk. Kara quickly filled it out.

"Yes ma'am," he whispered but kept his eyes on the floor.

"Can we talk privately?" Kara asked. "Taylor please go sit down." Nervous, he did as he was told. Over on the chair, he tried to pretend that he wasn't watching the two women talking. When Kara turned to look at him, he shifted his eyes.

"Well, that's taken care of. Come, Taylor. Now, I'm dropping you off and Mr. Reese is going to pick you up, is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I don't want any trouble from you. And don't give anyone any trouble, either. I'll know if you do."

"Yes ma'am."

"Call me if you have any questions," Kara said before turning on her heel and heading out the door.

"Well, Taylor, let's get you introduced to the other kids." She guided him to the large rec room filled with kids of all ages. Some were shooting hoops, while a few others played ping-pong. In the far corner a couple of kids were cutting construction paper strips to make a chain. One kid was on the bleechers reading a book, and another was leaned against the wall playing a video game on his phone.

"Attention everyone. Can I have your attention?" The kids stopped their activities to look toward where the voice had come from.

"Everyone, I want you to meet Taylor."

"Hi Taylor," the voices greeted in chorus.

"Let's make him feel at home."

"Yes, Miss Hendricks."

She turned to face Taylor. "If you need anything, Ms. Corwin or Mr. Ingram can help you, okay?"

"Yes." The phone rang in the lobby.

"I'll check on you in a few minutes."

Left alone, Taylor felt dozens of eyes on him, and he began to itch. Counting to ten, he tried to focus on anything other than giving in.

"Hi Taylor," a little girl said as she walked over. "I'm Sharon. Do you want to come and cut paper chains?"

"I don't know."

Sharon took his hand and pulled him toward the table. "Come on. It's fun. Put your bag on the floor."

Taylor did as he was told.

"I'm cutting all the purple because that's my favourite colour," Sharon announced. "What colour do you like?"

Taylor shrugged. "I don't know."

"How about red?" Sharon took a few sheets of paper and a pair of scissors and pushed them toward Taylor. "You can borrow my glue."

"Thanks." Taylor picked up the scissors.

"I'll race you to see who can cut the most paper. Then when we finish, we'll go get some cookies." Sharon smiled warmly at her new friend.

"Okay." The cutting race began.  
*******

Two minutes to four found John in the lobby of the Youth Centre. Not seeing anyone at the front desk, he looked around.

"May I help you?"

John turned around. "Hi. I'm John Reese," he said. He looked at the redhead. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

"Miss Hendricks." She extended her hand. John took it and gave it a shake. "You must be here for Taylor," she guessed.

"I am."

"Ms. Stanton said you would be here at four."

"I arrived a little early."

"That's okay." Picking up the folders, she led John to the doors of the auditorium. "He seemed to do okay."

It took a moment for John to scan the room and find the small slip of a boy sitting at the large round table.

"Can I go to him?" John asked cautiously. There was no telling what Kara may have told the staff, but he was going to play it safe.

"Sure. Before you leave, let me know so I can log you out." She left John alone.

John walked over to the table, glancing at the stack of strips of paper. "Hey Sport," he greeted. "Looks like you've been busy."

"You're here." Taylor set the scissors down on the table. "Can we go?"

"Sure."

"Are you Taylor's daddy?" Sharon innocently asked.

"Sort of," John replied without going into specifics. "Get your coat on."

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Sharon asked eagerly. She liked the mysterious and quiet boy.

"Yeah, sure," Taylor answered with a small smile. "Thank you for the cookies."

The little girl blushed.

John put his arm around Taylor. "We have to go see Sam," he reminded.

"Bye Taylor," the kids at the table said before turning back to their task. John led Taylor to the main room. Signing his initials beside Taylor's name, he wrote in the time of his arrival and departure.

"See you tomorrow, Taylor," Miss Hendricks said.

Taylor nodded. Together, he and John walked outside. Although the temperature had dropped a bit, Taylor was happy to be away from the building.

"Let's walk to Sam's, okay?" John said. "How did it go?"

"It was okay, I guess."

"Anyone give you any trouble?"

"No."

"I see you made a friend. What's her name?"

"Sharon. Her mom is a waitress and so she has to go there after school," Taylor explained.

"Ah. You were cutting paper to make a chain?"

"Yeah."

"I did that when I was your age. I once made a chain that was thirty feet long," John boasted. "We wrapped it around the tree twice."

"I don't think mine will be that big."

"You never know." Stopping outside the door of Samantha's legal office, John pulled the door open. "Let's talk to Sam, then we'll go get hot chocolate."

"Okay."

Joss looked up as the pair walked in. "Hi! You're early." She set the folder aside. "Can I get you a water?"

"I had some cookies."

"I'm good, Joss," John declined.

"Well, let me tell Sam that you're here." She knocked on the door before sticking her head inside the room. "John and Taylor are here." Joss pulled back. "She said to go in."

"Any ideas for dinner?" John asked.

"The local burger hut is having a two-for-one special on chili burgers and fries," she said. "When you're done, we'll meet there for dinner. My treat."

Before John could reply, the phone rang.

"Groves-Fusco Legal Aid," Joss spoke into the receiver. "Joss Carter speaking."

Not wanting to interrupt, John stepped inside Samantha's office and closed the door.


	24. Chapter 24

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

"Taylor's fast asleep," John said, entering the living room.

"That's good."

"He didn't even get his shoes off, and he was out like a light." John sat down on the couch and let out a deep breath.

Joss used the remote to lower the volume of the TV show she was half watching. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Everything. His life was falling apart, and it was totally out of his hands.

"John, you've never been a good liar."

"I didn't know you cared," he chided.

"Well, you and Taylor have managed to grow on me. And I do care."

John buried his face in his hands, rubbed deeply to get the blood flowing and to help relax. "I honestly don't know where to start. I think Taylor had fun today, but I can't really tell."

"Isn't he pretty open with you?"

"Usually. He confided more with Sara—she seemed to know where he was coming from. I feel that if I push him, he might shut down." His laugh was short and sarcastic. "Wouldn't Kara like that."

"What is her game?"

"I can't tell you, Joss. But now she is involving Taylor."

"Do you think she's going to succeed in taking him away?" Joss broached the subject. No matter what her feelings were toward John, there was no denying that he loved that little boy more than life itself.

"Not as long as there is life in my body."

"I believe you." And she did, but a part of her was sad that he hadn't felt that way when it mattered to her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You've never been able to lie to me, Joss."

"No, you've never been able to lie to me," she corrected with just a faint touch of mirth in her tone.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just..." Joss shook her head. "It's nothing."

"May I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Why did you run away?" John asked the question that had been weighing on his mind for years.

"Long story. And you wouldn't understand," Joss evaded. She tried to concentrate on the Christmas movie that no longer held her interest.

"Try me."

"Look, John, you and I have found a happy medium; let's not ruin it."

"If our happy medium is going to be ruined because of the past, it didn't have much of a future to begin with," he theorized.

"When did you rely on fancy meme quotes to make a point?"

"There are a lot of sides of me that you don't know, Joss," John replied boldly.

"That goes without saying. As for why I left...I got bored."

"Bored?" John echoed. Nah, it couldn't have been that simple. He had read the letters from Sara a million times, trying to garner some clues. But nothing ever stood out that Joss had been bored.

"Bored with small town life and not being able to go anywhere. I wanted to make something of myself and experience places and things," Joss elaborated. But her eyes didn't meet John's.

"I think I understand."

"Well, you left to join the Navy," Joss pointed out how he had booked the small township for better things.

"My parents were gone; school was over. I wanted to better myself for my family and myself," he returned.

"You didn't have a family."

"Not at that time, but I was working on it. I figured by the end of my first enlistment I would have a degree under my belt, and a few bankable skills to make me more appealing to an employer." A dark cloud passed across John's face. "Sometimes things don't work out the way you want them to."

 _Jessica_ , Joss thought bitterly to herself. It had taken years for Joss to not lose control whenever she heard that name. It had taken years for her to stop crying herself to sleep. No amount of partying in her first year of college had drowned the memory of the woman who had taken her place. And now that she finally had John where she wanted him and could ask any question, she didn't trust herself.

"How did you get hurt?" she changed the subject.

"Routine convoy checking on the perimeter for IEDs. We got ambushed by the insurgents a mile before the checkpoint. We held them off the best we could until re-enforcements on our side could arrive. Everyone in my Humvee was killed. I tried to save my team leader and that's how I took two bullets." John closed his eyes as the memory flashed vividly in his brain.

"I'm sorry," Joss murmured. She reached out to touch him and offer comfort.

"One bullet shattered my shin bone, the other entered my abdomen."

Joss didn't know what to say. "I..." She blinked back tears. "What happened to your team leader?"

"GS to the head. He never stood a chance." John tried to swallow the bile down, but it threatened to choke him. "I spent a month at Bethesda and three months at a facility in San Antonio for rehab. I got more than half of the use of my leg back," he tried to sound positive.

"And the bullet in your gut?"

"Remember Garfield?"

Joss blinked. "Who?"

"President Garfield. He was shot in the abdomen by an assassin and would have lived, but the doctors made a medical error," John described.

"Comforting. But I remember the story. How does that—"

"The bullet was encased in a protective...casing, but it's located in a strategic and complicated area. The doctors say that as long as I don't become a professional wrestler or acrobat or go back into the service," John half joked, "I'll be fine,".

"You get shot twice and you joke about it?" Joss asked, incredulous at the twisted humour.

"I guess it could have been worse."

"Yeah, your lucky day."

John eyed the bowl heaped with popcorn. "May I?"

"Help yourself." John grabbed a handful of the buttery, salted puffed kernels. "And then you got out?"

John popped the kernels in his mouth, chewing slowly. "I tried to go to a desk, but..." he sighed "...I couldn't go back active; and since most of my team was gone...well, I thought it would be better if I got out. I took the honourable discharge and said 'post'."

"Did you come back?"

"I wandered for a while. Went here, there, anywhere I could to get lost and not be found. I guess you could say I became a bum." John reached for more popcorn. "I hit the bottle—hard. I jumped a turnstile in Manhattan, got arrested. Guess the cop took pity on me while I dried out in a cell and called a veterans' counselor."

Joss sat and waited with bated breath for John to continue his story.

"It took some convincing—on his part—but I started to work thru things. Got into AA and started to make amends with the past."

"How did you end up here?"

"They say that birds always navigate back to home base. Besides, Manhattan wasn't for me. I took a bus to Erie, then hitchhiked out to the farm. Sara took me in. No questions asked."

"And that's when you found out about the defrauding," Joss supplied.

"Yes. She offered me room and board if I helped out on the land. In return, she got me cleaned up, took me down to the VA and got my disability started, and gave me a purpose," he said in a voice thick with emotion.

"She always loved you," Joss said softly. _And so did I._

"Then Taylor dropped into our lives, and...the rest is history."

"But what about your disability getting cut off? How did that happen?"

John's laugh was bitter. "I received a letter in the mail stating that according to their records I was dead—which is the pure definition of irony. They even had a date of my demise. Sara was going to help me pay for a lawyer, then she got sick."

"Do you think Kara did it?" Joss wondered.

"Maybe."

"Why? She wasn't in the military; you never crossed paths with her; yet, she has this vendetta." Joss reached for the popcorn.

"Sara said she was going to hire a private investigator, but... I don't know if she ever did."

"And nothing on Taylor's dad."

"His last place of record was here. If he returned to the bottle, then he would still be off the radar. No chance of tracking him down."

"There's still a chance he could be found," Joss said.

"The streets are hard for homeless people; even harder for drunks. Shelters don't take in people who drink or do drugs because of the liability," John spoke with regret. "He could be anywhere."

Joss debated turning the movie back on, when John spoke.

"What about you?" he asked. "What made you leave?"

"A misunderstanding."

"Sara wrote me about the fight," John confessed.

Joss kept her eyes downcast. "I thought she might. Grandma was always getting into my business."

"She cared. What happened?"

Joss wiped her hands on her jeans. "I had enough of the small town and had to get away. Like you, I wanted to see the world before I was too old."

"You went to Harvard?"

"I applied in secret because I knew Grandma would have wanted me to stay here and go to the local college."

"Is that why you fought?"

Joss considered lying, but changed her mind.

"No."

"Sara thought maybe it was a boyfriend."

"Sort of. I had been seeing this guy And I started to have these fantasies of getting married and settling down near Grandma's farm—maybe having a few kids," Joss said with a touch of regret in her tone. So many dreams she had invested in only to go bankrupt when reality came calling.

"But you didn't."

"No."

"There's still time for a 'happily ever after' with a house and white picket fence," John encouraged.

"Heh." Joss leaned forward to grab the wineglass. She sipped slowly. "That doesn't exist."

"You never know. He could be out there ready to sweep you off your feet. Maybe have a couple of kids."

Joss's laugh was sardonic. "Not for me. I've kissed my frogs. All I got was warts."

"What about that Cal guy?"

Joss rolled her eyes. "It is what it is."

"But you want to marry him."

"Pffft! My career comes first."

"Even for him?"

"Cal included. Any man included." Joss hit the play button to resume the movie.

"What about the house?" John approached the touchy subject.

"What about it?"

"Have you given it any thought?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Rent it? Let me cultivate the land?"

Joss tried to keep her eyes on the movie and not John. There was a weird feeling creeping into her heart –a feeling she hadn't felt in years. "Maybe."

"That's enough for me." He watched Joss shiver as a draft sneaked thru the closed windows. He picked up the afghan from over the back of the couch and wrapped it over her shoulders.

Joss looked up at him. Appreciation shone in her big brown eyes. "Thanks." Before she could process anything, she pressed her lips to his for a brief kiss. She pulled back in surprise.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. Where had _that_ come from?

"Joss..." John tried to find the right words to describe what he was feeling.

"Oh, look at the time," Joss announced. She stood up. "I need to be into the office early because Sam has to go to court."

Confused by the sudden change in attitude, John replied, "Okay."

Joss held up the bowl of popcorn. "Do you want the rest of this?" she offered.

"I'll take it to the kitchen when the movie is over," he said.

"Thanks."

"Good night, John."

"Good night, Joss."

John waited until Joss was out of sight before he let himself relax. _She kissed me,_ he said to himself. It had been unexpected but not unwelcomed. Her lips were still as soft as he remembered—maybe softer.

With a small smile, he touched his fingers to his lips.  
************

Joss made it halfway up the staircase before she stopped to lean against the wall. _I kissed him,_ she said to herself. It had been the last thing on her mind, but she didn't regret it. His lips were as soft as she remembered.

Smiling to herself, she touched her fingers to her lips.  
************

Cal used the key to let himself into the nearly empty reception area of Joss's former office. It wasn't normally in his nature to snoop, but he needed answers to the dozens of questions that no one seemed to want to answer.

Turning on the light, the bright fluorescent bulbs flickered a few times before growing stronger to illuminate the area. He looked around. Nearly everything was gone, so he wasn't going to have many chances to find what he was looking for.

Sameen's desk.

Pulling open drawers, Cal ruffled thru the papers and notepads. Nothing. _Think Cal, where would that twit hide Joss's information?_

He pulled open the large drawer of the desk. His fingers trailed over the file tabs as he read each one. **EMRGENCY CONTACTS.**

Cal pulled the file out and flipped it open. His eyes scanned each line until he saw Joss's name. He frowned as he read the address: Lawrence _Township, Pennsylvania?_ He furrowed his brow in confusion. Joss never mentioned being from Pennsylvania.

Grabbing a pen, he quickly wrote the address down on a piece of note paper. With purpose he placed the folder back in it's file pocket and closed the drawer. As he turned around, his eyes caught a piece of canary yellow paper balled up in the wastebasket. Curios, he fished it out and opened it.

" _Tell Joss Cal wants her to call him ASAP!"_ and below it in large bold letters was the word NOT! underlined numerous times.

"I don't know what your game is, Joss, but I'm going to get to the bottom of why you are avoiding me. And I am going to bring you back to California—even if I have to drag you back," Cal vowed.

Pocketing the paper, he hurried toward the door and turned out the light. Careful to lock the door, he closed it behind him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Samantha was busy putting the finishing touches on her court presentation when the door to the office swung open. Looking up, she watched Joss waltz in, a cardboard container full of coffee cups in one hand, and a pink pastry box in the other. She tilted her head. Was that humming she heard?

"Good morning Sam," Joss greeted with a smile.

"Good morning Joss. Is everything okay?"

Joss shrugged. "Everything is fine." She handed over a coffee. "I wasn't sure what you liked, but Zoe was having a special on Peppermint Caramel Cappucinos."

"One of her best creations," Samantha said, taking a sip of the rich liquid. "And these?" She nodded at the box.

"Blueberry and strawberry cream scones."

"If I could, I would give you a raise on the spot." Samantha opened the lid, breathed in deep the scent of fresh baked scones. Reaching over, she picked one up and took a bite. "Mmmmm. This is good."

The two women ate in silence.

"What's going on?" Samantha asked out of the blue.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you come in bearing gifts with a spring in your step." Samantha wiped her hands on the Christmas red serviette.

"I don't have a spring in my step," Joss contradicted but looked away.

"Yes, you do. So...what's happening?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing..." Samantha looked closely at Joss's face. "There is something different about you."

Joss wiped her hands and tossed the serviette in the wastebasket. "Do you need these filed today?" She nodded toward the stack sitting on the file cabinet.

"They can wait. You look..." Samantha searched for the right words to describe what she saw. "...almost like you're..."

"Ready to work?" Joss supplied. Taking a folder from the stack, she opened the cabinet drawer. She ran her finger absently over the alphabetized dividers.

"In love."

Mouth agape, Joss stared at Samantha in stunned silence. "In what?!"

"Love. That mysterious four letter word we all try to avoid." Samantha reached for another scone.

"I am not in love," Joss denied. _File, Joss,_ she ordered herself, _keep your mind on filing all of these folders. Today. Right now._

"Yeah, you are. And if I had to put money on who it might be, I'm going to guess: John Reese." The folder Joss held, fell to the floor. "So, I'm correct?"

"I..."

Samantha smiled. "What happened?"

"I kissed him," Joss confessed, not even bothering to make up a lie.

It was Samantha's turn to be shocked by a revelation. "Wait! What?! When?"

"Last night. It was spontaneous. Neither of us—me, most of all—were expecting it," Joss hurriedly explained.

"Ah. I see. Did you like it?"

"Yeah, I did," Joss admitted with just a touch of modesty. It wasn't a lie. She _had_ liked it.

"And what did he say?"

"I didn't stick around to find out. I think I scared myself."

"Sit."

"You have to get to court."

"Sit." Samantha waited for Joss to get settled in the office chair. "This changes some things."

"Like what?"

"John's quest to keep Taylor."

Joss held up her hands. "Wait. You think me and John...?"

"You kissed him."

"It wasn't like that. I was feeling..."

"Feeling what?"

"Grateful."

"Grateful? What did he do?"

"He gave me a blanket."

"A blanket. I thought maybe he took you out to dinner or something. Regardless of what brought it on, I was expecting it."

"You were expecting us to kiss?" Joss sputtered in disbelief.

"Sure. You both have a history, and although you haven't said to the contrary, you and he have a history. I know you still have feelings for John."

"I don't."

"You do. I've seen them. You care more for him than even you may know."

"He broke my heart," Joss confessed.

"I figured something went wrong. But that was twenty years ago, Joss. You've grown up, and so has he. You have a second chance."

"What does that mean?"

"Make things right."

"Sam, I don't think you understand," Joss hurriedly interjected before her friend could go any further. "John and I were over a long time ago."

"And now you're back."

"I'm back," she agreed with vague reluctance. "But there is no love lost between us."

 _Just one more,_ Samantha told herself as she reached for another scone. She leaned back in her chair, but she didn't eat.

"That's where you are wrong. I've seen him look at you."

Joss rolled her eyes. "Pffft!"

"And I've seen the way you look at him, too. You both got it so bad."

"I am staying for the house. I'll be gone by Christmas Day."

"So you say."

"Sam." This kiss was nice, but a forever relationship with the man who broke her heart? No, there was too much water under the bridge. She had to draw the line somewhere.

"Lionel and I didn't exactly have love at first sight," Samantha revealed. Joss raised her eyebrow. "Let's just say it wasn't pretty." Joss raised both eyebrows. "Okay. It involved a stun gun, a dark alley, and a HUGE misunderstanding. I'm leaving it there."

"And this pertains to me and John, how?"

"That Lionel and I got over it. Eventually. But once we got to know one another—really get to know one another—nature kind of took it's course."

"What did he do?" Joss asked. Whatever it was, if it involved a stun gun, it was probably well deserved.

"He kissed me."

"He...kissed you?" Had Joss heard correct? "Was he drunk?"

"No."

"Were _you_?"

"No. Okay, it was a little bit more than it 'just happened'. This guy had been hitting on me at a bar. I went up to Lionel and asked him to...well, be my date—pretend to like me. I wasn't looking for anything serious, just a way to keep myself out of jail, you know. So, we left the bar and the drunk followed. I guess he really wanted to get my number," Samantha scoffed.

"How did..."

"We ducked into an alley to hide. And don't you know who shows up. Lionel said something like 'oh, what the heck', and he kissed me. I asked him why did he do that, and he replied 'well, we're supposed to be pretending, right?'"

"And the stun gun?"

"The guy saw that it was us hiding in the shadows. He rushed over and pulled Lionel away, and there was a fight. I pulled out my stun gun, aimed, and...hit Lionel by mistake," Samantha confessed.

Joss didn't mean to laugh, but she couldn't help herself. "You didn't!"

Samantha laughed shortly, smiled. "I did. He forgave me—eventually. Six months later we were married."

"Wow. Who knew? That's nothing like me and John. We have a history."

"Okay." Samantha licked the cream off her fingers. "What is your history?" she inquired.

"It's a long story."

Samantha looked at her watch. "Oh, shoot! I'm going to be late!" She stood up, grabbed the files, throwing them into the briefcase. "Tell you what, ask him out. Tonight."

"But—"

"Go out to the best restaurant in Erie. I'll make the reservations. Take a night off and get to know one another—as adults. You never know what might happen." Samantha struggled to pull her coat on.

"What about Taylor?"

"Drop him off at my place. Lionel and I would love to have him stay for the night." Samantha wrapped the scarf around her neck twice, picked up up her briefcase and purse.

"Sam!"

"Bring a go-bag for him."

"Sam!"

"See you at seven. Bye!" The door closed, cutting off any further conversation.

"Samantha!"  
***********

"I'll have whatever he's having," Lionel greeted as he took a seat at the diner counter.

"Hello to you too, Lionel."

Lionel looked over at John's plate. "Ah, the meatloaf special." He raised his hand. "I'll take one and a Coke."

"Don't you have rounds?"

"Mandatory one hour lunch break required by law." Uninvited, Lionel sat down on the stool next to John.

"Lucky me. So, what brings you here? Is it my turn to buy lunch?"

Lionel patted John on the back. "Funny guy. I just wanted to let you know that I ran a check on Kara Stanton—more expansive this time—and nothing came up."

"Nothing?" Somehow that news didn't surprise John.

"Okay, maybe a couple of things. She went to Yale Law. Graduated three years later. After that, the trail gets murky. I think she lived in Damneck, Virginia. Or somewhere in that area."

"What about before?"

"It's like she popped out of thin air. Nothing."

John looked stunned. "Nothing?"

"Nada. Zip. Zilch. It was almost as though she was born on the first day of law school. No marriages, no divorces, no tax returns..." The waitress set the tall glass of Coke in front of Lionel. He took a sip. "Just when I thought we might have something. It's hinky."

"What about Paul?"

"Thought I might have had a lead somewhere in Albany, but it wasn't him. I think we're on a wild goose chase." The waitress came over, placing the hot plate down on the counter.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"Cherry pie," Lionel told her without turning his head. She wrote quickly, then departed.

"Widow Reynolds run out of shortbread cookies?" John asked facetiously.

Lionel patted his belly. "They're right here, pal. Safe and sound." John gave him a look. "Not a word to Sam."

"My lips are sealed."

Lionel picked up the fork, turned it toward the light. He rubbed it down with a napkin. "How was Taylor's first day at the Community Centre?"

"He survived." John didn't elaborate.

"I wasn't asking about Taylor." Lionel cut into the meatloaf and popped a piece into his mouth. He chewed. "Kid's tough as nails; I was worried about you."

"I'm working thru it. As well as I can," John murmured over the rim of his glass.

Lionel stopped eating. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"With you. You look...different. Changed. Did you do something with your hair?"

"Nothing that I am aware of."

Lionel peered closely. "Wait. You didn't!"

John looked confused. "Didn't what?"

"You kissed her!" Lionel threw his fork onto his plate. "What a friend you turned out to be!"

"What are you talking about, Lionel?"

"You kissed her. You caved to the enemy."

"She kissed me. And it meant nothing." At least that is what he had been telling himself all night and most of the morning. Even hitting his thumb with the hammer during a moment when he was thinking about Joss instead of his task, hadn't kept his mind from wandering.

"Bull puckey. She got to you, pal. I should have known better than to leave you alone with her." Lionel shook his head sorrowfully. The pie was placed near his lunch plate. Furiously he cut into it.

"Let it go, Lionel."

"Let it go. Let it go," Lionel grumbled under his breath. He chewed angrily. "Like I'm supposed to forget you covorted with the enemy... Wait! We can use this to our advantage." His brightened as the idea began to form.

"I don't think I'm going to like this." John tried to focus on the remainder of his lunch—which he had lost the appetite for.

"She kissed you. That means that she is lowering her defenses. That's a good thing."

"How?"

"She's vulnerable. This is when you have to woo her and get on her good side." The wheels in Lionel's head spun faster. "What little good side there is."

"Lionel."

"Take her to dancing."

"What?" Had he heard his friend correctly?

"Take her out for a night on the town. Show her a good time. Snuggle in and be a friend."

John shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea," he disagreed. He couldn't betray Joss—not again.

"Look, this is the only way you are going to be able to get the house and Taylor, and get her out of your life. It's your one chance, Superman."

"Dancing?" He hadn't danced in years, not since Joss helped him practice a few dance steps for his senior prom. He could still remember the scent of the coconut skin lotion she used. No, he couldn't allow himself to get that close to her again.

Lionel paused. "Okay. I was thinking dinner and dancing. You know, woo her."

"Both?"

Lionel sighed in defeat. "Okay. You win. Dinner. But get inside her head and get that house. You have twenty-one days."

"What about Taylor?"

"Bring him over. Sam and I love having him. We'll make sure he gets dinner and to bed on time. I have the new 'Spider-Man' movie I think he'll want to watch," Lionel offered an incentive.

Although his gut was saying that he could be making the wrong move, his heart was telling him that it could work out.

"Okay." John's phone buzzed. He looked down. "Zoe needs me. A customer needs a roof repair." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled a few bills out and threw them on the counter.

"Go get 'em, tiger. Bring Taylor over at six."

"Thanks, Lionel."

"Anytime, my friend." Lionel looked over at the pile of uneaten fries. "You gonna eat those?"

John slid the plate over. "You can have them." He grabbed his heavy coat and pulled it on.

"You're the best." Lionel turned his attention to the fries. He was oblivious to the person two tables away who was busy writing in their notebook.  
***********

Sameen added another paperclip to the growing pile on her desk. It wasn't that she didn't have a job to do, but everything was moved, stored, filed, and mailed, and now was her free time. Picking up the chain, she visually measured it, then clipped the ends together.

"Very nice," Alonzo Quinn complimented as he appeared seemingly out of no where. "Is this part of your job description?"

"Heh. I'm on break," Sameen said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I see." Alonzo looked around at the empty office and reception area.

Sameen placed the necklace in the drawer and closed it smartly. "Can I help you?" she asked in her most professional tone.

"I'm going out of town."

"Oh. And how does this pertain to me?"

"Well, you're still Joss's receptionist—"

"Until she gets back," Sameen added.

"Any way, when was the last time you took a vacation?"

"Vacation?" Sameen repeated cautiously. "Never. I don't believe in them."

"Well, maybe it's time to change your mind." Alonzo reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a envelope. "I have to go on a very important business meeting tomorrow in Hong Kong and I need to take someone."

"And you chose me," Sameen finished, trying to sound more impresed than she actually felt..

"You're reliable, honest, and hard-working."

"If I were a dog, I would feel honoured by that description."

Alonzo's smile was charming. "Touche. You take shorthand better than anyone in the company. That is why I would like you to accompany me to this meeting. You will be compensated. Generously."

"I really need to stay, in case Joss comes back," Sameen declined the offer.

"She has another three weeks of vacation left; consider this a working vacation, Ms. Shaw." Alonzo's smile seemed genuine and the body language said the same thing. But there was something in his eyes that gave Sameen pause. But, he was the boss, after all, and who was she to turn down an offer from the boss?

"Sure." If there was something going on, she would be able to find out by being closer to the source. "I need to go home and feed the cat."

"Go home and pack your bags and feed the cat. We leave at six." Alonzo set the envelope on the desk. "I'll have a car waiting."

"Thank you, Mr. Quinn." Sameen waited until he was gone before picking up the envelope. Pulling out the ticket, she read the information. She would be back in four days. She bit her lip. Maybe if she put out enough food and water for Szymanski, things could work out. Or she could get her neighbour to check in.

"I'll ask Joss." Dialing, she counted the rings before the answering machine picked up.

" _This is Joss Carter. I can't get to my phone; please leave a message."_

"Joss, this is Sameen. I have to go out of town with the boss. Will call when I get there."

Sameen disconnected the call.

"It's just four days and three nights. You can do this, Sameen. I'll be back in time to take care of the cat." Still, it bothered her that something deceptive was lurking below the surface. Sameen grabbed her purse, passport, and phone. There would be time to sort it out when she got back.


	26. Chapter 26

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Braving the ice cold wind, John held the door of the restaurant open to allow Joss to step out on to the sidewalk. Once she was clear, he let the door close. He hurriedly pulled on his gloves to keep his hands warm.

"I think it got colder since we first walked in," Joss remarked breathlessly. She had almost forgotten how quickly the temperature could fluctuate so drastically after years of average weather on the coast. Taking the ends of her long scarf, she wrapped it a few times around her neck to help ward off the wind.

"At least a good fifteen degrees," John estimated. At least it wasn't snowing, so the sidewalks were clear. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

Joss looked at him in surprise. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he had an ulterior motive, but then she changed her mind. "Why not?" She was still lingering in the after glow of a great meal and robust bouquet. A little walk might help get her blood pumping and burn off a few calories.

Side by side, their steps fell in synch as they walked down the crowded sidewalk, filled with busy shoppers on their way to the latest deal or a last minute bite before heading home. Joss looked around to see garland and lights on every lamppost which added an almost ethereal feel to the already joyous season. But, if she was truly honest with herself, she didn't feel the spirit.

"What are you thinking about?" John wondered out of concern. He had seen the emotions cross Joss's face. He didn't want to think that he had made the wrong choice by taking her out to dinner.

Joss shrugged indifferently. "Nothing." At least nothing she could explain or he would understand.

"You still can't lie to me, Joss," John teased lightly. He could feel that she was holding something back but he didn't want to push her. Especially when he had made such headway getting this far with her.

Joss sighed. "I want to thank you for dinner tonight."

"My pleasure."

"Sure it was. Are you sure you don't have something up your sleeve?" she asked, not bothering to beat around the bush.

John tried to appear unoffended by her assumption. "Not a thing. I wanted to do something nice for you since you've been footing a few of the bills since arriving." It wasn't a topic he wanted to bring up, but he needed something to start the conversation.

"I know that you're in dire straits money wise, and the least I can do is help out since I am using the utilities and eating," Joss tried to cover her assumption with a little truthful diversion.

"Thank you."

"Still..." Joss let the word dangle as she tried to figure out a way to ask the one question on her mind.

"How did I get the money for tonight?" John finished. Joss's eyes widened in surprise. "Lucky guess. I finished the manger. Zoe paid me handsomely." More than he had expected. He had almost felt as though he was stealing from her, but she had insisted that his work was worth every dollar.

"And here I thought she only paid you in scones and cakes," Joss replied, tongue planted firmly in her cheek.

"Maybe she was watching out for my waistline and decided money was a better alternative," John joked.

"Yeah, like you could ever get fat," Joss scoffed. "Still, dinner was nice. I didn't know they had an authentic Italian restaurant here."

"They opened ten years ago. It beats having to drive to Erie when the weather is bad." They waited for the light to change to green before crossing the street. "How are things in L.A.?"

"Umm...pretty much the same. The office is getting ready for the Christmas party." She avoided telling him about the possible promotion on the horizon. It wasn't exactly lying because it wasn't for sure. Not that Sameen would lie to her, but when it came to business, it was better to dream with both feet on the ground.

"Wishing you could be there?" John guessed. If he wasn't mistaken, he was sure there was a longing in her eyes at the thought of being back with her friends.

"Yes. No. A little." Joss sighed. The feeling she was experiencing was new to her. Even after she tried to analyze why she wasn't going to have any regrets after missing the annual office Christmas party, she had no clear answer. It wasn't as though they were a rambunctious bunch—although, the year before, Terney had donned a Santa hat and spent an hour drunkenly warbling Christmas songs. Maybe it hadn't been as bad as she thought, but it ruined her ever wanting to hear _'Feliz Navidad'_ again in this century.

"I bet your friends throw festive holiday parties," John remarked with just a tinge of jealousy.

"No different than anyone else's," Joss defended her friends. But even she had to concede that nothing done in this little town could ever compete with the likes of L.A. Not even close.

"Christmas in St. Bart or Cancun or wherever the elite do the holidays. I suppose it's no different," John tried to hide the disgust in his voice. It wasn't that he was envious, but considering it was one of the things that pulled Joss away from her family, then he didn't really care for it.

"Do you miss it?" John wondered.

"California? I'm adjusting. You get into the rat race long enough, you have to learn how to slow down."

"At least your coffee consumption has gone down."

"My doctor will appreciate it." She didn't dare tell John that her last check-up had not gone well. Her doctor remarked that her blood pressure was eking toward the high side and her vitamin D levels were in the basement. He was also concerned that her iron levels were dangerously low and that if she didn't slow down and relieve some stress soon, she was going to find herself in the hospital.

"How is Taylor doing at the community centre?" Joss changed the conversation to a less personal subject.

"I think he likes it." Not that he had any say in the matter, John grumbled silently to himself. Kara Stanton was on time, like clockwork, every day to pick Taylor up and take him away. No matter how he tried to soothe his conscience that it was for the best, John thought it was wrong.

"I know you're worried about him, but he's going to survive," Joss comforted the best she could. Other than having been one herself, Joss didn't know much about children. She knew even less about being a parent.

In silence, they continued walking, but their steps slowed. "Why did you kiss me?" he asked out of the blue.

"Uh...I...uh, I was...grateful for the...uh...blanket," she stammered her reason for dropping her guard.

"Oh, I thought it might be that you had changed your mind about me. Maybe that I am not such a bad guy," he half-teased. His heart picked up speed at the thought of Joss maybe liking him.

"You're not a bad guy, John. You don't give yourself enough credit," she returned, suddenly defensive of the man she blamed for ruining her life.

"Thanks.

In silence they walked the next block until they came to the center of the town.

"Wow. It's still here," Joss remarked as she looked at the 60 foot tall Evergreen. It was bigger and taller than she remembered, but it still looked the same. A sharp pain stabbed at her heart, though she tried to ignore it.

" _No, Mommy, I don't want to go!"_

" _Come on, Jocelyn. Don't act like this; we're going to be late."_

" _I wanna stay with Grandma. I don't wanna go nowhere with you. Ever!"_

Joss shook her head to clear the memory. "They haven't lit it yet."

"Every December first." John saw something sad in Joss's eyes before she turned her head away. "Still the same old celebration and parade. Sara was on the decorations committee," he revealed.

"Sounds like her." Joss reached out to touch a branch. The pine needles were soft but firm in her hand.

"It will be different this year," John said sadly. Joss didn't comment. "What do you say to coming out here for the lighting ceremony?"

Joss pulled her hand back. "I don't know..."

He wasn't sure, but John thought he saw a bit of yearning in her eyes. "The three of us come out for the parade, watch the lights turn on, maybe get something to eat," he continued, trying to sweeten the offer. "Watch _'It's A Wonderful Life'_ afterward?"

Joss laughed softly. "Okay. You had me at _'It's A Wonderful Life'_. Are you sure you weren't a negotiator in the military?"

"Maybe." He sounded vague but there was a gleam in his eyes.

"John Reese..."

"So, it's a date? Saturday night?" John crossed his toes inside of his shoes.

"Yes." A snowflake fell gently from the sky to land on Joss's eyelash. She blinked quickly so that it fell onto her cheek. "It's snowing...again."

John brushed the droplet from her cheek. "It is," he confirmed. He flicked his gaze upward and saw the North Star shining bright. "Joss, I hope you don't mind, but I am going to kiss you," he announced before lowering his head. Gently he pressed his lips to hers. He waited for her to pull away. When she didn't, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her closer.

Ever so gently his lips moved over hers. Still as soft but a bit different, Joss thought to herself as she returned the kiss. A small spark started in the center of her stomach and grew stronger until she felt as though she was floating on air. For a moment, the rest of the world seemed to disappear.

Trying to catch his breath, John pulled back. He pressed his forehead to Joss's.

"I didn't mean to get carried away," he apologized, but he didn't pull away. Neither did Joss.

"It's okay." The wind picked up. Joss shivered as the cold threatened to steal the warm protective feeling John had given her.

"You're getting cold. Let's go home and I'll make you my famous hot chocolate," John offered.

Joss didn't want the night to end, but the logical part of her knew they couldn't stand all night outside in front of the tree.

"Okay. I get to pick the movie, though."

"Deal." As much as he hated to, he stepped back. He felt the cold wind seep into the fabric of his heavy coat. He looked at Joss, beautifully lit under the street lights, and he felt his heart fall. "Let's get home."

He reached out and took her hand in his, holding on firmly. Together, they walked back to the truck.  
*********

In a car parked conspicuously far enough not to be seen, a camera was drawn back inside. A gloved finger pressed a couple of buttons to pull up the pictures. Slowly and methodically, frame by frame, pictures of John and Joss walking, talking, and kissing, were brought up.

"I got you now."  
*********

Samantha descended the staircase and walked into the family room.

"Taylor never woke up," she said in disbelief that anyone could be that worn out. The little boy had barely stirred as she removed his shoes and socks and then tucked him under the comforter.

"Well, he barely made it through the movie," Lionel remarked. He patted the cushion of the blue leather couch he joked that forty cows had given their skin for.

"He is out like a light. You wore him out, Lionel," Samantha said as she dipped her hand into the bowl of popcorn. Lionel's eyebrows furrowed.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Samantha shrugged. "Sure. Why do you ask?"

"You're eating popcorn. You hate popcorn."

"I don't hate it," she corrected smartly, "I just don't care for it. There is a difference. I think it's the seasoning, because this batch is really good." She took another handful.

"Okay." He wasn't going to argue with her. Not tonight.

"Speaking of hate," Samantha said around a mouthful of puffy corn kernels, "why do you hate Joss so much?"

Lionel shifted uncomfortably at the accusation. "I don't hate her, per se."

"Well, you put on a pretty good show. What happened between you two?"

"I don't really know," he replied honestly. "John and I were friends from the moment we were put in the same playpen. We went everywhere together. Did everything together. Got into a few scrapes," he admitted sheepishly.

"I know. Was Joss any part of this?"

Lionel shook his head. "Not really. She was three years younger, so missed out on a few things."

"What was she like as a kid?" Samantha wondered.

"Quiet. Shy. Aloof. She was in love with John from the moment she laid eyes on him. Followed him everywhere when she was old enough to go to be trusted to go to school and back."

"And John?"

"Doted on her like the kid sister he never had."

"And you resented it."

"No I didn't," Lionel contradicted.

"Yes, you did."

Lionel reached for the can of soda, took a sip. "There were moments when she acted like a little pest—always threatening to tattle on us," he groused.

"Did she?"

"Yes." Nearly thirty years later, Lionel couldn't remember what trouble he and John had caused, but time was never going to steal the memory of the whipping his father had given him. Unconsciously, he rubbed his backside.

"And you resented her." Samantha took Lionel's silence as his answer. "What happened?"

"I was angry, but I didn't mean to do it." Lionel felt sudden remorse at the memory. "We were having a neighbourhood snowball fight," he recalled. "Joss was about eight or nine, and she was on the opposing team."

Samantha wasn't sure she was going to like what she heard, but Lionel needed to get it off his chest. "What did you do?"

"Nothing...at that moment. It was a pretty ferocious battle. We won, of course. I had one snowball left." Lionel lowered his head as he confessed, "I hit her square in the face with it."

"Was she hurt?"

"It hit her in the eye," he admitted. "And it had a rock in it. If you look closely, there is a red dot on her eye. That is my fault."

"Oh, Lionel. She was just a child."

"I was angry, Sam. My dad was...not a nice guy."

"I know, Lionel, but he can't hurt you anymore. Joss has grown up. You've grown up. It's time to say you're sorry."

"I don't know."

"Have you tried?"

"No," he grudgingly admitted, "but even if I did, she wouldn't listen."

"You're going over to pick John up for ice fishing this weekend; that's when you are going to say you're sorry," Samantha suggested.

"I guess."

"Don't guess; try. I like her, Lionel. I want her to stay. And as long as the past is between you, she has no reason to let go. And neither do you." It was the tone Samantha used in court when trying to persuade the jury to vote in her favour. When she used it, very rarely did she lose.

Lionel set the bowl on the coffee table. He pulled Samantha into his arms. "Have I told you that I love you?"

"Not today."

"I love you." Lionel kissed her soundly.

Samantha picked up the remote, turned off the TV. "You know that actions speak louder than words, right?"

Lionel stood up, reached down to pull Samantha to her feet, before swinging her into his arms. "Your wish is my command."

Laughing softly, Samantha kissed him before he carried her up the stairs.


	27. Chapter 27

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

The bell above Zoe's door dinged to alert the arrival of a new patron. Zoe looked up from where she was placing a new cake in the display case.

"Hi Lionel," she greeted. "What brings you here?"

"Picking up a morning snack break for the guys down at the station."

Zoe wiped her hands on the damp cloth hanging from her apron. "The usual?" she asked.

"Nah. It's the holidays, so spice it up a bit."

"It might be a few minutes. Can I get you anything while you wait?" Zoe offered.

"A cup of coffee."

Zoe turned toward the coffee machine. Pouring the scalding hot liquid, she placed the coffee cup in front of Lionel. "I'll hurry."

"Take your time. I just came from Widow Reynolds' place and had to dig out her car. I'm just going to thaw my fingers out." He wrapped his hands around the scalding hot ceramic.

The doorbell rang again. Out of habit, Lionel turned around to look at who entered. His back straightened as his eyes honed in on the well-dressed stranger coming thru the door. Tall, average looks, wearing an expensive suit—he looked out of place in the small town.

Lionel kept his eyes on the man was he walked up to the counter. "Hello," he greeted, trying to get a feel. The man smiled. A broad grin to show perfect teeth. Right away, the feelers went off in Lionel's brain.

"Hello Sheriff."

"You new to town?" Lionel probed none too politely.

"Just passing thru. I'm looking for a friend."

Lionel was curious. "Friend?"

"Actually, my fiancee. Maybe you know her: Jocelyn Carter?"

"Jocelyn Carter...hmmm..." Lionel mulled the information over. "Huh, can't say the name rings a bell."

"She came out for her grandmother's funeral but ended up staying. I'm checking on her."

"You don't say. Where you from?"

"Los Angeles."

Lionel appeared unimpressed. "Ah, California—the land of fruits and nuts," he mocked. He took a long sip of his coffee.

"Yeah."

"What's your name?" Lionel inquired.

"Cal—Calvin Beecher." He extended his hand, but Lionel didn't take it.

Zoe showed up at that moment with a large pink box. "Three baker's dozen to go," she announced, but it didn't escape her the tension between the two men.

Lionel took the box. "Thanks. What do I owe you?" He reached for his wallet.

"Twelve fifty."

Lionel pulled out a twenty. "Keep the change." He looked at Cal. "Nice to meet you, pal. Sorry I couldn't help." He slid down from the stool. "Taylor is over with Sam." He nodded to Zoe. "Gotta get these back to the boys. See ya later."

"Bye Lionel," Zoe called out as he departed. She looked at the man Lionel had been talking to. "Hi, may I help you?"

Not sure if he would get the information he was looking for, Cal shook his head. "No, thanks. But I will take a piece of that pecan pie and a cup of coffee."

"That will be four dollars." Zoe took the cash and handed back the change. "If you'll take a seat, I'll bring it straight to you," she promised.

"Thank you."

Zoe watched where the man took a table in the far corner. She couldn't put her finger on what was cautioning her, but she was also intrigued by the stranger. Cutting the pie and pouring the coffee, she handed them to her assistant before heading to the kitchen.

"I took care of the electrical wiring problem," John said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Thank you. I can't believe I didn't notice that before. You saved my bakery," she praised.

"Only because you decided to run that extra line down to make a spotlight for the manger," he returned. "Otherwise, the inspector would have found it."

"I still owe you, John."

"I haven't finished the wiring yet."

"You will. Until then, go help yourself to some coffee and whatever is in the display case."

"Zoe..."

"It's all I can afford right now," she said with a wink.

John looked at Zoe. "What's wrong?"

"Come here." She took him to a place kitty-corner so they could have full view of the dining area without being seen. "You see that man over there?" She pointed to Cal. "Have you seen him before?"

John shook his head. "No."

"He isn't one of your Navy buddies?" Zoe asked.

"Never seen him before. What's wrong?"

"Nothing...I just have a bad feeling."

"Strangers pass thru this area all the time."

"I know, but this one seems...different."

John grinned. "I'm sure everything is going to be alright."

"I guess." Zoe stepped back. "Are you going to the tree lighting ceremony tomorrow night?"

"Wouldn't miss it. Will you be serving your famous hot chocolate?"

"Of course. I guess I overreacted. Why don't you get yourself something to go?" she suggested. "Take whatever you want."

John's stomach rumbled. "Don't mind if I do. Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Zoe started to turn around, stopped and turned back. "Oh, Taylor is with Sam."

"I'll go pick him up." John quickly helped himself to a few of the pastries before heading out to the law firm. It had been a long night without Taylor, and John just had to see his face and make sure everything was alright. Closing the box, he hurried out of the shop.

Ten minutes later, Zoe peeked out into the dining area to see if the stranger was still there. To her disappointment and relief, he was gone. Shrugging, she went back to taking care of her business.  
**********

"Good morning, Taylor, Sam," Joss greeted to the pair walking thru the door.

"Hi Joss. Since John is at Zoe's, I thought Taylor might want to come to the office," Sam explained. She directed Taylor to the second desk.

"I thought there was a reason I bought the large box of donuts this morning." Joss carried the pink box over to Taylor. "I remember that you like chocolate."

"Thank you," Taylor whispered. He reached for the chocolate eclair. He gave Joss a smile.

"I was hoping you would come by this morning," Joss said as she reached down to open the desk drawer. "I brought you a colouring book. I hope you like 'Star Wars'."

Taylor looked at the large picture book and the 64 count of crayons. His eyes brightened. "Thanks!"

"That was nice of you, Joss," Samantha said with a smile. She moved the box to Joss's desk.

"I wanted to keep him occupied while he waits for John."

Samantha lifted the lid. "Any strawberry donuts in there?"

"I think I have one or two."

Samantha plucked the strawberry filled donut out and took a big bite. "This is delicious!" She licked her lips. "Speaking of John," she lowered her voice, "how did last night go?"

"It was nice," Joss said without going into detail. She pretended to study the multi-coloured sprinkles on her donut.

"Nice? You look happy. I think it was more than nice." Samantha took another bite. "Where did you go?"

"The little Italian restaurant on Hudson Avenue."

"Nice. And then...?"

"We walked to the Christmas Tree."

"Any mistletoe?"

"Mistletoe?" Joss asked stupidly.

Samantha's eyes widened. "Oh! You didn't need any!"

"Sam! Taylor is here."

"Sorry." But Samantha didn't look contrite. She was excited for her friends. If only Joss and John could fall back in love, then they could keep Taylor and the house, and she would have her dream law partner. Samantha wasn't afraid to bet it all if it were to come true.

The door opened and John walked in.

"Hey sport," he called out to the little boy busy colouring pictures of R2-D2 and other space aliens. Taylor turned around, dropping his crayon. He hurried over and wrapped his arms around John's waist.

"I missed you."

John rumpled Taylor's hair. "I missed you too. Did you have fun?"

"Uncle Lionel has all of the Spider-man movies, and we had pizza and ice cream," Taylor rushed on.

"You did, did you?" John asked, bemused by the rush of words from the normally reticent child. Had it been a good idea to let him spend the night at Lionel's, he had wondered. But the strength of the hug let him know he had done the right thing.

Joss silently watched the exchange. A weird feeling pierced her heart—a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time. She tried to push it to off to the side and concentrate on eating her donut.

"I'm going to go to the tree lighting ceremony," John said. "Wanna go?"

Taylor smiled wide. "Yes!"

"Sam, what did you do to my little boy?" John asked. "I sent you a shy little creature, and I get this back in return." It filled his heart to see Taylor smiling and laughing. It was unexpected, but it could only be a step in the right direction and a plus in his favour to keeping Taylor. John said a silent prayer of thanks.

"Don't look at me; Lionel is the one who fed him Fruity Pebbles this morning," Samantha deferred the blame solely on her husband.

"You ate silly cereal?"

"Yeah," Taylor whispered.

"What?" John tried to sound gruff, but there was a playful tone to his voice.

"Yeah," Taylor's response was louder.

"Really?" John tickled Taylor, making the little boy giggle. John tickled more.

"Uncle. Uncle," Taylor pleaded between fits of laughter. In response, John picked him up and gave him a little toss, before pulling him into a bear hug.

Watching from her place on the desk, Joss took in the scene between John and Taylor. Then, without explanation or warning, her heart fell with a splat.  
*********

Cal rubbed his hands together. _Damn, it was cold!_ Who would have thought northwestern Pennsylvania could be so cold on the first week of December, he thought to himself. Even more so than any ski trip he had ever taken to Utah or Colorado. Despite the coat and gloves, and thick woolen hat on his head, the frigid, wet cold was still seeping in to chill him to the bone. Involuntarily, he shivered. He could be in the Caribbean right now, burying his toes in the warm, white sands of the beach. No, he thought bitterly, instead he was standing beside an old brick building, freezing his toes off.

He looked around at the small but busy town. It was less than he had anticipated, but it was active. Albeit, not busy in the Los Angeles way of things, but people still pushed him aside as they tried to pass on the sidewalk—although most of the pushing was followed by an "excuse me" or an apology. Still, he felt like a fish out of water.

The wind picked up. Cal burrowed himself deeper in his coat, thanking the manufacturer for the thick wool lining. He was still trying to figure out what could have brought Joss back to this hole in the wall and made her stay. Two days of wandering the streets and asking about her, had produced no new leads. Either Joss was lying low or the citizens were hiding their own. He needed to find her and then blow this tiny township.

 _Call her!_ A little voice told him. Cal shook his head. He didn't want to give her a head's up that he was in town—especially after she had been avoiding his calls for the past few weeks. No, he wanted to surprise her. Then take her home where she belonged.

"You look lost," a raspy voice broke into Cal's thoughts.

Cal looked down to see a short, elderly woman dressed in a thick cashmere coat and a faux fur hat on her head, standing in front of him.

"Looking for a friend," he replied without going into specifics.

"Oh. Anyone I know?"

"Jocelyn Carter."

Cal watched as a mixture of emotions crossed the woman's face. "I know her," the reply came out stiff and forced. Was that disgust on the woman's face? Cal couldn't tell, but he had the feeling the woman had no love for Joss.

"May I ask how you know her?"

"I was friends with her grandmother Sara Carter. Not a more saintly woman walked the earth." The woman shook her head sorrowfully. "How rude of me. I'm Winnie Matthews."

"Cal Beecher. Do you know where I can find Joss?" he asked hopefully.

The woman's chin went up with self-righteous defiance. "She is at her grandmother's house."

Bingo! Pay dirt! Cal felt elated that he was finally making progress. "Do you know how I can get there?" All he could do was ask and hope she said yes.

The woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Depends... What exactly are your intentions, young man?"

"I'm her fiance, and I'm going to take her back to L.A."

Winnie smiled as though that was the best news she had heard in a long while. "In that case, if you have a pen, I'll tell you exactly how to get to the Carter residence." Winnie carefully dictated directions to the farm house.

"You don't know how much this means to me," Cal thanked as he put the pen back in his coat pocket.

"The pleasure is all mine." With a smile, Winnie continued on her way down the street.

Cal looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. Finally, after weeks of not knowing, he was going to be able to be face to face with Joss. And with any hope, he could finally talk some sense into her and bring her home.


	28. Chapter 28

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

The crowd was just beginning to form when John, Joss and Taylor made their way down the sidewalk toward the platform where the tree lighting ceremony was to take place. The air was frigid, but the wind had stopped blowing. And although the weatherman had predicted snow, the sky was clear. Even the stars seemed ready for the show.

Finding a place close enough to the stage but far enough away from the crowd to make Taylor comfortable, John tried to relax. Although things seemed to be improving with his young charge, he still had apprehension about subjecting him to large crowds.

"You okay, sport?" he asked the little boy who was bundled up against the elements. Perhaps a little too well since only his eyes were visible.

"Yes," Taylor mumbled thru the scarf covering the lower part of his face. He felt a little nervous, but John was close by, so he could relax.

"Joss?"

"I'm fine," she assured John. Although her body was quickly adjusting to the extreme change in climate, she still shivered despite the heavy coat, felt lined hat, and the leather and wool gloves. She wished she had put on the second pair of socks. But it was too late for regrets now.

"How about some of Zoe's hot chocolate?" John asked.

"Yum!" Taylor said. He bounced up and down with excitement.

"I'll take some, too," Joss put in her order.

"Two hot chocolates coming up. Stay here," John ordered. He hurried down the street to Zoe's stand.

"Are you warm enough, Taylor?" Joss asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hey, look! It's the abominable snowman," Lionel greeted in a teasing way.

"Hi Uncle Lionel."

"I can't understand you." Lionel pulled down the scarf. "That's better. Who dressed you?"

"Dad."

"I think he went a little nuts with the layers. But you're warm." Lionel looked around. "Where is Superman?" he wondered.

"Getting us hot chocolate." Taylor smacked his lips for effect.

"He is, is he?"

"Where's Sam?" Joss asked. She was mildly disappointed that her boss hadn't joined them.

"Finding popcorn."

Joss furrowed her brow. "Popcorn?" she repeated.

"Yeah, seems she developed a hankering for it. Weird." Lionel shook his head as though he couldn't comprehend his wife's sudden palate change.

"Heh."

"Have you noticed anything different with her?"

"Other than her sudden craving for strawberry donuts, nothing that comes to mind," Joss offered what she knew. She might like her boss, but that didn't mean she was going to get involved in business that didn't concern her.

"Strange." The conversation seemed to be stilted for the moment. "So...what do you know about the guy wandering around town?" Lionel asked bluntly, not dicing any words.

Joss appeared nonplussed by the question. "What guy?" She actually looked surprised.

"Tall, good-looking—sort of, expensive taste in clothes," Lionel described the man he had met in Zoe's store. "A million dollar smile..."

Joss's heart skipped a beat. Was it possible the stranger was Cal? It certainly sounded like him, she thought to herself. Instead, she answered, "Don't know him."

"Hmmm...because he said he knows you. Said he knows you real well." There was no mistaking the implication in the statement.

Joss tried not to look irritated by the pseudo-interrogation method. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

It wasn't lost on Lionel the way Joss's carriage suddenly stiffened and how she appeared to be defensive by information.

"Said he was from California and was taking you home," Lionel supplied the tidbit with undisguised glee as he saw the flash of recognition light up Joss's eyes before fading out.

Before Joss could deny further knowledge of the mystery man, John walked up to them. In his hands he carried a large cardboard container.

"Lionel, you're here."

"No where else I would rather be," Lionel replied, his eyes focused on Joss. She was hiding something, and if it took every last bit of police work, he was going to find out what is was.

"Here Joss." John handed the large styrofoam cup over.

"Thanks," Joss said, but she didn't drink.

"Taylor. Careful, it's hot," John cautioned. Taylor took the cup and sipped greedily.

Lionel reached over and grabbed the last cup. "Thanks," he said and put the cup to his lips before John could protest.

"No problem, Lionel."

"Hey, what did I miss?" Samantha greeted, carrying two large cups in her hands. "Here, John." She handed one to John.

"Thanks, Sam."

"I figured Mr. Greedy would take yours, so I bought an extra."

"I don't deserve you," Lionel remarked with just a touch of humility.

"You can say that again," John, Joss, and Samantha said under their breath in unison.

"I heard that."

"So, what are the plans this weekend?" Samantha asked. "Are you still going ice-fishing?"

"I am," John said. "Lionel?"

"I'll be there with bells on...if I don't have to make a detour to Widow Reynolds' place," he groused.

"I think she has something for you, Lionel," John teased his friend's relationship with the older widow.

Lionel was taken aback. "I don't think so."

"I think your waistline says otherwise," Samantha said demurely.

"I don't...but...I..." Lionel stammered in embarrassment. He looked at John and Joss. "Who told?"

John and Joss shook their heads. "Don't look at me," John replied.

"Not here," Joss denied any involvement.

"I was a P.I. for a couple of years, remember?" Samantha said. "And I noticed the crumbs on the front seat of your cruiser."

Lionel growled under his breath. He had been caught red handed. "I told the guys to vacuum out my car."

"Looks like you need to delegate that authority a little bit more," John teased.

"I don't mind, Lionel. Just don't go overboard." Samantha put her arm thru his and leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder. "I love _all_ of you just the way you are."

"Geez. Thanks." Lionel didn't know whether to feel proud or offended by the declaration.

A bell rang loudly, interrupting all conversation.

"If I could have your attention," a middle-aged man called out from the stage. "In a couple of minutes we'll be lighting the tree. However, I want to take a moment to remember one of our own who won't be here this year: Sara Carter."

A low murmur ran thru the crowd.

"She was a pillar in this community, never failing to help out where she could. She wouldn't have hesitated to give the shirt off her back or her last dollar, if anyone ever needed it. When she took on the duties of the annual tree lighting, she accepted it as her duty. It was if she knew she wasn't going to be with us, that she hurried to finish all of the last minute details for tonight's ceremony to happen. So, tonight, in her memory, we dedicate this tree lighting."

The mayor took the clicker in his hands. "Three. Two. One." He flipped the switch. The tree lit up in white-gold lights. The crowd oo'd and ah'd as applause filled the small square. The band began to play _"Away In The Manger"._

"Merry Christmas Sara," the mayor said solemnly, his voice cracked with emotion.

"Wow!" Taylor breathed in awe as he looked at the tree.

"Isn't that something?" John asked rhetorically. His heart squeezed painfully as the loss of Sara hit him all over again.

"That sure beat last year's," Lionel murmured. He pulled out his camera and took a picture.

"Sara outdid herself," Samantha said softly and brushed away a tear.

Only Joss stood silent. A hundred thoughts and memories flooded her mind as she looked at the tree. Something pricked her eyes, but she swore it was the cold wind. She tried to swallow down the lump in her throat. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought there was a hidden message in the lights.

"Joss? Are you okay?" John whispered as he watched her swipe a hand across her face.

"Yeah. My eyes are dry from the cold," she made the weak excuse. In the distance a voice was singing _"O Holy Night"_ -her grandmother's favourite song.

"Remember to pick up a Secret Santa Angel from the tree to help a child in need," the mayor said. He gave a wave before leaving the podium. The ceremony was over.

"I'm going to get a couple of angels," John said. "Do you want to come with me, Joss?" he invited. He held out his hand for her.

"Sure."

John laid a hand on Taylor's head. "Stay here, sport; I'll be back in a minute." At Taylor's nod, he and Joss turned to make their way thru the crowd to the tree. John turned to the left and disappeared behind the tree. Meanwhile, Joss looked over the dozens of angels and tried to choose just one.

"Joss Carter?" a voice said behind her as she reached for a paper angel. Joss turned around.

"Yes?" she answered, staring blankly at the well dressed man standing in front of her. Not too tall, pleasant looking to a fault, but he had an honest face.

"I thought it was you. Louis Olson. Mayor of this city," he introduced himself and extended his hand. "We met briefly at your grandmother's service."

Had they? Joss couldn't remember. "Hello Mr. Mayor." Joss took the proffered hand and shook it quickly. "How are you?"

"I'm well. I thought you were heading back to California?"

Joss shrugged. "Change of plans."

"I'm glad to have you here in our wonderful city. Although I wish I had known you had stayed, because I would have loved to have your input in tonight's ceremony," Mayor Olson said.

"I don't think I could have added much of anything," Joss replied humbly at the thought of being compared to her late grandmother.

"Well, I wouldn't mind having another Carter on the planning committee. I was wondering if you would like to take her chair for next year?"

Joss shook her head. "I don't know... I may not be here next year."

"I heard that you are the manager of planning and development at your firm," Mayor Olson said with a reassuring smile. "We could use someone with your expertise on the committee. It doesn't pay anything, but the reward is more than financial," he tried to sweeten the offer.

"Golf resorts," Joss supplied quickly, hoping that bit of information might sway him to choosing someone else. "Nothing close to Christmas trees or pageants."

"Management is management, no matter how you cut it," he stated logically.

"I may not be here next year."

Something in her tone told the mayor not to push his luck. Smiling, he nodded. "I see. I hope you change your mind. Until then, know that my door is open and the offer stands."

Chastened by the civil way he took her refusal, Joss lowered her eyes. "Thank you."

"It was a pleasure meeting you again." Mayor Olson moved on into the crowd.

"What was that about?" John asked, walking up beside Joss. He had missed most of the conversation, but if the look on Joss's face said anything, it seemed to upset her.

"Nothing. Did you get an angel?" Joss wondered, quickly changing the subject. She could feel John's eyes trying to look into her. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another.

"A few. One for Lionel and Sam...and Taylor," he explained.

"Oh."

"You look tired. Let's go home and watch the movie," John suggested. He reached down and took her hand in his. Something was wrong, something had changed in Joss, but he chalked it up to her being tired.

The smile Joss forced her lips to give never reached her eyes, but she let John take her hand.

"Okay," she agreed. "Let's go home."  
***********

Cal was nearly at his rope's end—with his patience and the stupid directions he had practically followed to the letter. Either they were wrong or the GPS in his car was defective. Three times he had punched the address into the system, and three times he found himself literally in the middle of nowhere. The worse being halfway to Rochester, New York.

Usually he prided himself at being able to control his temper, but after the last wrong turn, it had taken every bit of strength in his body to keep from ripping the electronic device out of the car and hurtling it into Lake Erie. Four days since arriving in Pennsylvania, and it seemed as though he was never going to find Joss.

Stopping at the corner gas station, Cal put the car in park and turned off the engine. He had to stretch his legs and get the blood flowing. There was nothing like a good cup of gas station mud to clear his mind and help rejuvenate his quest.

The doorbell chimed to announce his entrance. A young man with stock blonde hair in a bad crew cut, looked up from the large text book lying on the counter.

"Hey."

"Hello," Cal greeted back. His eyes darted around for the coffee pot. "Got any coffee?"

"Yeah, sure. Over in the corner," the kid said with a tilt of his head. He turned his attention back to the book.

"How fresh?"

The kid shrugged. "Dunno. A couple hours, I guess." What did he care how long ago the coffee was made? His job was to watch the counter and make sure the register balanced at the end of the shift.

Cal decided to rethink his strategy. He walked toward the counter and flashed his mega-watt smile. "Interesting book," he observed, flicking his gaze downward at the foreign dialogue. "Russian?"

"It's part of my college credits."

"I never caught your name."

"Mike."

"Mike. Maybe you can help me." Cal reached into his overcoat and pulled out his wallet. "I seem to be a little lost." He extracted a hundred dollar bill and threw it down on the comic book. "I need directions."

Attention diverted, Mike pushed himself off the counter so he could stand at his full height. Intrigued at the money, he reached for it.

"Not yet," Cal cautioned.

"What do you need to know?"

"I have these directions to this address." Cal handed over the directions Winnie had given him. "I have been traveling for days trying to find it. You tell me where it is, I will make it worth your while." He pulled out another bill. He threw it down on the first one.

"The Carter farm. You go down this road for a mile or so, take a right, go down that for a quarter of a mile... There is a big apple tree in the front yard; you can't miss it," Mike said in a rush. He reached for the money but Cal stopped him.

"You're sure?"

"I'm not lying."

"I trust you." Cal pulled his hand back. "Keep the money." He hurried out of the store to the car.

Taking the money, Mike stared as if it was going to disappear. "Thanks," he called out to the departing figure.  
*****************

"What do you want to do today?" John asked as he finished up the last of the dishes and placing them in the drainer. He would put them in the cupboard later. Right now, he had something more important to do.

"Can we go ice-skating on the pond?" Taylor asked excitedly.

"I was thinking maybe...oh, I don't know, asking if you want to go with ice-fishing."

"Really?! You want me to go?!" Taylor asked excitedly at the prospect of being taken along with the adults.

"It's going to be cold," John warned.

"I'll dress real warm, I promise," Taylor reasoned.

"Okay. Tell you what, go upstairs and put on warmer slacks and another sweater," John ordered. A second later Taylor ran out of the kitchen. "Make sure you brush your teeth first," he called out.

"A blur ran past me; I think it was Taylor, but I'm not sure," Joss said, entering the kitchen. It was so warm and cozy. She never wanted to leave it.

"It was," John confirmed. "I told him he could go ice-fishing with me and Lionel."

"That's nice of you. Are you sure it's safe?"

"The ice is pretty thick on the lake, and we don't plan on being out there for more than a couple of hours," John defended his decision.

"I'm sure he'll like it. But I think I'll take a rain check," she declined without actually being invited to join.

"Are you sure? You could man the hot chocolate thermos," John offered.

"No, thank you. I will stay here and get some laundry done." _Maybe try to contact Sameen again,_ she finished silently.

"When we get back, I'll make my famous stew. And we'll talk." They needed to talk—talk about what he was feeling in his heart. It was new and exciting, and a bit frightening, too. And he was sure she was feeling it too.

"Sounds delicious," Joss replied and licked her lips. Drawn in by the innocent gesture, John leaned in to kiss her.

"Dad! Come here!" Taylor called out from the front room to interrupt the moment. John and Joss gave each other a worried look as they hurried from the kitchen.

"What's wrong, Taylor?" John asked, trying to tap down the fear in his gut. He looked around the room for anything amiss. Everything seemed to be alright. So, why did the hair on his neck suddenly stand up on end?

Taylor pointed toward the yard with his finger. "A really expensive car just pulled up in the driveway."

"What in the world..." Joss murmured. There was something vaguely familiar about the car, despite having never seen it before. She was drawn to the front door. Opening it, she stepped out on to the porch. Before she could say anything, a man stepped out. _Cal?_

"Hello Joss. I've been looking everywhere for you," Cal greeted. "It's time to come home."


	29. Chapter 29

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Joss blinked. "Cal?" she asked stupidly as he walked toward the porch. _Oh, boy!_ Joss thought to herself. This was not how she had intended things to happen. She was going to have to think quick on her feet.

"You know him?" John asked. There was something a bit smarmy and too slick about the rich CEO in the expensive cashmere overcoat. He would bet his bank account it was a Ralph Lauren original.

"He's my...boss," Joss finished.

Cal gave a short laugh. "That's what you call me?" His smile was broad and friendly. "I thought I was more." He climbed the few steps up to stand on the porch.

"Cal..." If there was one thing Joss Carter hated, it was to be put on the spot. And right now it seemed as though there was a thousand-watt bulb shining down on her.

"I think I remember giving you an engagement ring before you suddenly pulled up stakes and ran away to parts unknown," Cal chastised with just a tiny lilt in his voice.

Taylor's head spun to the left to look at Joss in shock. John made a small noise in his throat. At that moment, Joss prayed for the first time in her adult life that the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

"You offered it, and I didn't run away," she corrected stiffly. "And I left the information with Sameen."

"Well, she's on a business trip," Cal divulged just as casually as one would the weather.

"Wait! When did this happen?" Joss asked in confusion. Sameen was gone? When? And who was watching the cat?!

"A few days ago. If you had been keeping in contact with the office—as required—then you would know that she went with Alonzo to Hong Kong for two weeks."

"No one told me," Joss muttered. Something fishy was definitely going on, but what? And by whom?

"That's why you need to come back home." Cal could feel the burning gaze from John and Taylor. "I'm sorry; we haven't been introduced. I'm Calvin Beecher," he introduced and extended his hand.

Not to be rude, John took the proffered hand and shook it—hard and firmly. "John Reese."

Shaking in fear, Taylor eased himself beside, then around John so he could hide.

Cal noticed the tackle boxes on the porch. "Did I interrupt something?" he asked.

"We were just going fishing. I'd invite you, but the boat only holds three," John apologized without feeling.

Cal started to speak but the honking of a horn cut him off. Everyone looked to see a large Toyota 4X4 pull into the driveway. A few moments later Lionel stepped out.

"Hey John!" Lionel called out as he trudged thru the snow to the porch.

"Lionel."

Lionel walked up two steps. His eyes locked on to Cal. "We've met before."

"Sheriff," Cal acknowledged.

"I see you found Joss Carter," Lionel observed. His face was stoic but his eyes stayed on Joss.

"Just where you said she would be," Cal returned smoothly. He didn't trust the portly sheriff, and he was positive that the detour had been of his doing.

"Are you ready to go?" Lionel turned toward John.

"Let me get my coat." John turned around. "Taylor, go get our coats and gloves, then get Bear and take him to the truck, okay?" he directed. Without a glance backwards, Taylor hurried inside.

Joss looked confused. "You two met?" She nodded toward Lionel and Cal.

Lionel's lips thinned. "Yep," he replied without going into detail.

The door opened and Bear bounded outside. Seeing Cal, he stopped short, sniffed Cal's pant leg. Cal reached his hand down. Bear backed up, then growled.

"Whoa!" Cal said, backing up from the canine. Usually he and dogs got along very well, but this one had taken an inexplicable dislike in him.

" _Bleiben ruhig!"_ John commanded. Bear stood still. _"Geh zum lastwagen!"_ Immediately the canine obeyed, trotting across the porch, down the steps to the truck.

"I should have mentioned he's a service dog," John said unapologetically. Only twice had Bear ever stood his ground. Now this made it his third. Maybe he could have Lionel or Sam do a background check. "Lionel, take Taylor; I'll be there in a moment."

Lionel nodded at the unspoken message. "Come on, T. Let's get in the truck and get you warm." He waited for Taylor to stand beside him before wrapping an arm around his thin shoulders and leading him to the truck.

"My fault," Cal took responsibility.

"Why don't you come in and get a cup of coffee?" Joss offered. Looking at the two men sizing each other up, made her think of the old western movie Mexican standoffs. She stepped back and held the screen door open for Cal.

"Thank you, Joss." Cal had to appreciate John's backbone and having not backed down.

"I'll be in, in a minute." She closed the door after he walked inside. She turned to look at John. "What was that?" she demanded in a loud whisper.

"I was about to ask you the same thing, Jocelyn," John whispered back.

"It was rude!"

"Bear was only doing his duty to protect me." He wished he could buy his friend a steak.

Joss let out her breath in a huff. "Are you still going fishing?"

"Of course. Lionel's here and everything's ready. I'm not going to break Taylor's heart by canceling."

Joss felt a bit of worry run thru her. "But I—"

"I'm not a very good third wheel."

Joss placed her hands on her hips. "What does that mean?" she demanded hotly.

"You need private time with your boss...fiance...or whatever you call him."

"He is not my fiance!"

John rolled his eyes. "Sure. Okay."

Lionel dramatically revved the engine.

"That's my cue; gotta go. Don't keep dinner warm; we'll probably spend the night at Lionel's."

"John, don't walk away," Joss said, but her words were drowned out when the engine revved again. She watched as John sprinted across the yard to the truck. A second later the door slammed and the truck backed out. Tires spinning, slush flying, and then it was gone.

"You're kidding me!" Joss said to the empty yard. Silently, she counted to ten. Took a deep breath and turned on her heel. Cal had arrived out of the blue for a reason and she needed to find out why. Then she would deal with John.  
********************

Two hours on the lake, and John hadn't caught a single fish. By now, he had caught his limit, and maybe he should have cared, but all he could think of, was Cal Beecher's surprise arrival. Usually the mood inside the shack was jovial and boisterous with teasing and bad jokes, but today it was somber. Maybe he had nothing to say. Or maybe it was a subconscious move to keep him from overhearing something.

"Wow! Look at this one!" Lionel exclaimed as he reeled up the line. At the end of the hook was a walleyed pike. "Ten pounder, if I had to make a guess." With expert hands, he unlatched the fish from the hook and deposited it in the large ice cooler with the others he had caught.

"Great, Lionel," John said without much enthusiasm. Maybe fishing had been a bad idea, he thought to himself. He could be back at the house finishing Zoe's work order. Or maybe fixing the hole in the barn roof. Anything would be better than sitting on the ice, watching and waiting for a fish that refused to bite.

"Don't take it personally; maybe they can pick up I'm not in a bad mood," Lionel ribbed.

"I'm not in a bad mood, Lionel."

"Well, you're not exactly singing and dancing."

"Might scare the fish."

"Wise guy." Lionel looked at his watch. "Well, I caught my limit. What do you say, Taylor? Wanna go back to the house and get warm before you help me put these beauties in the freezer?"

"Yeah, sure."

Lionel fished the car keys out of his pocket. "Here. Take the small cooler and Bear with you, to the truck." He waited for Taylor to leave before asking, "You thinking about that guy?"

John shrugged.

"Well, he's good-looking, and apparently very rich," Lionel stated the obvious.

"Is that supposed to help me, Lionel?"

"Just pointing out why Joss might choose him."

"I didn't know Joss was supposed to be choosing."

"The house?"

John gave another shrug.

"Don't shrug me off!" Lionel retorted. "Your future is in limbo with Mr. Fancy Pants arriving. Are you going to fight for what's yours?"

"It would depend on Joss."

"Pffft! Who cares what Joss thinks? She lied to you. I know I kept it from you that he was in town asking about Joss, but I didn't want to worry you."

"Sure." John reeled the line in and broke down the rod. He placed it in the protective case.

"Hey, why do you think I didn't tell him where to find your house?" Lionel returned. John looked at him. "Yeah, contrary to what Rolex says, I never gave him directions."

"Why?"

"Because it wasn't my place to divulge that information. There are some crazy ass people out there, or have you forgotten? I'm not sending a potential psycho anywhere near my godson!"

John felt chastised for jumping to conclusions. "Thanks."

"Still doesn't excuse the fact that Joss lied to you. She's been using you."

"I don't want to talk about it, Lionel." John stood up. "I'm going to check on Taylor."

"Look, John, I know that you've developed feelings for her, and I wanted to hope that she might feel the same. But a leopard can't change its spots," Lionel said with finality. "I would just watch out, though, because that slick CEO might just try to circumvent the will and grab the house."

John closed the shack door soundly.  
*********

"So, this is where you decided to run away to," Cal remarked with slight amusement as he looked around the average sized kitchen. He kept his face devoid of any emotion as he sized up the out of date appliances and counter tops. He knew a good contractor who could transform the room and bring it up to date.

Joss handed him a mug of fresh brewed coffee. "Here." She sat down across from him. "And for the record, I didn't run away; I came back for my grandmother's funeral," she replied stiffly.

"You didn't tell me. All I received was a note from your receptionist saying you had a family emergency out of state." Cal sipped the coffee. "I didn't know you had a family," he rebuked.

"It's not something I like to advertise."

"You could have told me."

"What did you want to hear, Cal? That my parents were killed right before Christmas when I was five; that I was raised by my grandmother until I went out on my own when I turned eighteen?"

"At least now I know it's for sure."

Joss blinked. "For sure, what?"

"I did a background check on you. I wondered how long it would take for you to come clean."

Joss shifted uncomfortably on the chair. "I don't like to speak about my past."

"Not even to me?" Cal sounded hurt.

"Not to anyone."

"So, you're staying here?" Cal wondered what on earth could be holding Joss in this godforsaken hole in the wall.

"Yes. It's complicated. But I'm here until Christmas Eve."

Cal appeared to look confused. "How is it complicated? You're living in a shack in the middle of nowhere with a man and his son. There is nothing keeping you here." He reached over and took Joss' hand in his. "Come home, Joss. We miss you."

A part of her wanted to run upstairs and pack the few items she had, and run out the door, never looking back. A part of her didn't care what happened to the house or John or Taylor as she headed back to beach and surf and eternal sunshine.

But the logical part—the part of her that wanted to make amends and find peace—was telling her to stay.

"It's only a few more weeks."

"A few more weeks that I have to live without you," Cal said, his eyes were sad. "We were supposed to be on our honeymoon this Christmas Eve."

"I never said yes."

"But you didn't say no, either." Cal lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. Joss smiled weakly. "I want you to come home."

"Right now, I can't. I need to stay and help John keep Taylor."

Cal looked flummoxed. "I thought John was his father."

"It's a long story. Taylor's mother died when he was little, and his father abandoned him a couple of years ago. He has had a rough start, but my grandmother was fostering him until she..." Joss looked down at her cup. "John has custodianship."

"But I don't see how that is your problem."

"I owe it to my grandmother to make sure Taylor stays safe."

"You owe it to your clients to insure that they get good quality resorts," Cal contradicted. "You have hundreds of people waiting for you to come back and make decisions. I'm sure John can take care of himself."

Torn, Joss tried to think of something to say, when a knock on the front door caused her to jump. She pulled her hand back.

"Are you expecting company?" Cal asked.

"Uh, no." Joss stood up. She hurried to the living room. Giving a peek thru the door, she saw a woman on the other side. Her heart skipped a beat as she opened the door.

"Hello, Ms. Carter," Kara Staton greeted with a saccharin sweet smile.

Joss quickly recovered her composure. "Kara Staton. I wasn't expecting you."

"I know it's unexpected, but I had a free calendar today, and I thought I'd spend a few minutes with Taylor."

"Taylor isn't here," Joss revealed. Kara seemed surprised by the news.

"May I ask where he is?"

"John and Sheriff Fusco took him ice-fishing."

Kara's lips thinned. "They did, did they? When will they be back?" Not that she really cared, but she had to give the appearance of caring.

"John mentioned they are spending the night with the Fuscos."

Kara's eyes narrowed. "And you?"

"What about me?" Joss stood her ground.

"You'll be here alone?"

"How is that your business?"

"Everything pertaining to Taylor is my business," Kara returned, her words laced with venom. "I saw a car outside. Is it yours?"

"It belongs to a friend."

"A _male_ friend?"

Joss tried to tap down her irritation at being grilled. "Yes. My boss flew in from California this morning."

"I see."

"Joss? Who is at the door?" Cal asked, walking into the living room. There was no denying the way Kara's eyes widened and flashed quickly with interest.

"Cal this is Kara Staton," Joss introduced. "She is the social worker assigned to Taylor."

"Cal Beecher. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand.

Kara's lips curved in a smile as she took Cal's hand, giving it a firm shake. "The pleasure is all mine." And she was relishing in it. She turned toward Joss. "Tell Mr. Reese I stopped by, and I will be here to pick Taylor up as scheduled."

"I will make sure he gets the message," Joss replied. "Have a nice day." She waited until Kara was back in her car and pulled out of the driveway before she closed the door. "That couldn't have come at a worse time," she muttered under her breath.

Cal tugged on Joss's arm. "Let's go back to the kitchen and finish our coffee." Joss brushed him off.

"You go without me; I need to call someone." Joss pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and dialed.

Realizing he had been rebuffed, Cal waited a moment, then the wheels in his mind began to turn. He realized he had just found a way to get Joss back to California for good.


	30. Chapter 30

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Samantha hit end call. "That wasn't good."

"What?" Lionel asked.

"That was Joss. It seems that Kara Staton made an impromptu visit to the house and found her boss there."

"What the—?!" Lionel felt this temper rise. With everything happening good, why did that pesky social worker decide now was the time to stick her nose in business that wasn't hers?

Samantha held up her hand to stop his rant. "Joss told her that Taylor was spending the night here. So, there is nothing to worry about."

"That's what you think.," Lionel mocked. "I don't trust that woman any further than I can throw her."

"Which woman?" Samantha challenged.

"At this moment? The jury is still out."

"Have some faith in her."

"Faith? Faith?! Joss has wanted to take the house away from the moment she stepped inside—despite not having a claim to it. She didn't think twice about throwing John and Taylor out on the street before her grandmother was even cold," Lionel exploded. "And now her richy rich fiance flies out here to take her home? Coincidence?"

"You don't believe in coincidences," Samantha returned.

"Exactly."

"Joss isn't one to do anything devious."

"No, she isn't," Lionel begrudgingly agreed, "but she wants to get even with John."

"Why?!"

"I don't know, Sam. They were in love, then she ran away. John hasn't told me anything, and I doubt Ms. Future CEO is going to confide in me."

"I'll ask her."

"Oh, yeah. That will work," Lionel's words dripped with sarcasm.

"Joss and I have a bond."

"Joss doesn't bond. She doesn't trust many people."

"She trusts me. I know she wants to stay." Samantha walked over to the fridge and pulled out a container of tomato juice. "Grab me a glass, will you?"

Lionel did as he was asked. "What is that?" He wrinkled his nose.

"A craving, okay? I can't handle anything stronger right now." Samantha poured the juice and took a sip.

Having had enough of talking, Lionel grabbed the keys and headed toward the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Samantha demanded, slamming the juice container down on the counter.

"Over to John's house. I need to check a few things," Lionel replied in an off-handed way.

Samantha's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What things?"

"I have a hunch, okay?"

"This hunch wouldn't be her boss staying there, would it?" Samantha wondered.

"Maybe..." Lionel tried to dodge answering directly.

"Have some faith in her."

"Gotta go." Lionel turned the knob.

"If you walk out that door..." Samantha left the remainder of her warning unspoken. "Let them work it out."

"He's my friend," Lionel defended his actions.

"And she's mine. If this is going to have a happy conclusion, we have to keep our noses out of it."

Lionel fought an internal struggle to do the right thing. "Oh, okay," he gave in, laying the keys on the counter. "If you're wrong..."

"I'm never wrong."

Lionel's eyes met hers. "That's what I'm afraid of."  
***********

John pulled the truck up into the driveway. He had spent a restless night tossing and turning, worrying about Joss and the man from California. He hadn't wanted to think worst case scenario, but his mind had gone there. All he wanted was his son and the house and a happy ever after. But if the empty pit in his stomach had any say, he would be lucky to get one of those.

Shifting the engine into park, he turned off the engine. He turned to look at Taylor. "Go upstairs and change, and I'll make you a snack before Kara comes to pick you up."

Reluctantly, Taylor loosened the seatbelt. "Okay." He paused. "Can you call her and tell her that I'm sick and can't go?"

"Are you sick?" John asked.

Taylor lowered his eyes. "No. Not really," he admitted.

"If you aren't sick and tell her you are, that's lying," John replied sympathetically.

"But I don't want to go," Taylor pleaded. "I do feel a little sick."

John sighed. "Does this have anything to do with Joss's friend arriving?"

Taylor shrugged. "Sort of. Maybe."

"There is nothing he can do, Taylor. The house is safe, and you are safe," John assured the best he could. Other than meaningless platitudes, what else could he offer without breaking his promise?

"What if—?" Panic started to set in. How could he begin to explain everything he was thinking and feeling without John looking at him in a weird way?

"There are no 'what if's', son. Everything is good. Just go with Kara to the community center, and I'll pick you up. Deal?" John gave him a comforting smile that seemed to reassure the boy. "Go get ready."

"Okay," Taylor agreed. He opened the door of the truck and stepped out. With heavy feet, he walked across the yard to the porch.

John looked at Bear, who was in the front seat. "Go with him, Boy." With a happy bark, the canine jumped out and raced to catch up with Taylor. John watched as the pair disappeared into the house. There had to be something he could do to reassure Taylor and keep things the way they were at the moment. But what? His hands were so tied and he felt as though he was being pulled in so many different directions. Maybe he should pray for an answer. He lowered his head.

Finishing his prayer, John looked up. He thought he saw what looked like two people standing in the far distance of the yard. Curious, he stepped out of the truck and cautiously began to walk toward them.

"There is a lot you could do here, Joss. Great potential for a small B and B; or weekend get-a-way. Expand the house—or tear it down and build a bigger structure," Cal described his ideas for the land.

"Heh."

"Listen to me, Joss. You could turn this place around and make a bundle. I'm sure it would be no problem getting the land permits to start construction by February."

"Cal, I don't even own the land."

"Why?"

"It's a long story."

"I know."

Joss looked at him in bewilderment. "What do you know?"

"The will. You can easily buy him out—and if you can't, the firm will loan you the money." Cal Beecher didn't care for stumbling blocks that could prohibit him from getting what he wanted. He wanted the best of everything. After all, he wasn't called "18 karat Cal" for nothing.

"Cal—" Joss didn't want to discuss plans or ideas at the moment. She just wanted to go lie down.

"A 'no interest loan' of course. We'll make it back and then some. You could easily become a millionairess within two years," Cal proclaimed his prophesy.

Joss was uncomfortable with the idea. "Cal, can we talk about this later?"

"You have a nice piece of land here," Cal observed. "The improvements could easily net you a couple of million dollars—or more."

"I guess."

"Am I interrupting anything?" John asked. Joss and Cal turned around to see John standing behind them.

"No. I was just telling Joss that she has a prime piece of real estate here."

"She does?" John sounded amused by the comment. "Did you know that, Joss?"

"I need to go inside and call Sameen," Joss said, excusing herself from the conversation. John watched her walk back to the house. Cal remained focused on his new found project.

"Ten acres; not too big, not too small," Cal remarked. He looked around the area, his mind started a blue-print of where he would put the new buildings and parking lot.

"Depends on what you want to do. There is an area down by the pond that is too rocky to do much with," John informed in a mono-tone.

"Is it all farmland?"

"Five acres—give or take. Depends on the season. Last couple of years we've had a drought, so I planted less."

"Aren't a lot of trees here," Cal remarked. Was that disappointment in his tone?

"I thought about planting more as a windbreak, but I'm going to wait."

"I think you could do a lot to improve the land."

"I don't have that option right now."

"Maybe do a little landscaping," Cal continued. "This place could be quite the showpiece of the city if you do it correctly."

"I'm sure your ideas will beat anything I can come up with," John replied with barely veiled sarcasm.

"Just offering suggestions, John. You might want to look into it."

"Let's cut the small talk, Mr. Beecher. You don't care what I do with this land; you want the land so you can develop it into what you want."

"It was an idea," Cal evaded without answering directly. "Tell me: what do you plan on doing with it?"

"I haven't given it much thought." Which was partly true. After all, what good would it do to plan for a future that was out of his hands?

"I wouldn't wait too long, because property values are going to drop. You want to hit the market when it's hot," Cal advised.

"I'll have to remember that," John replied noncommittally.

Cal's phone dinged. He looked down, his eyebrows raised. "I have to take this call."

"Sure." John left the man to his call and went back to the house. He felt numb but not from the cold. He felt betrayed and used. Walking up the back stairs, he stomped the snow off his boots before entering the kitchen. The warm air enveloped him.

"I made coffee," Joss said from her place at the table.

John didn't answer. Instead, he walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the carton of juice. Yanking open the cupboard door, he pulled down a glass. He poured the orange liquid to the brim, then took a long drink.

"I'm sorry you overheard that," Joss apologized.

"You're sorry that I overheard your plans to turn Sara's land and house into a weekend resort for pampered people tired of the west coast?" John didn't try to hide his disgust.

"That's not what I was doing," Joss contradicted defensively.

"Really? So, what exactly was it that I heard you and your fiance discussing?" John challenged. Maybe he wasn't looking for a fight, but Joss and her friend had thrown down the gauntlet. And if it took everything he had, he was keeping the house and the land.

"Cal gets carried away when he gets an idea. And for the record, he isn't my fiance."

"Okay, boyfriend. Is that better?"

"John, you're overreacting." Joss stood up and walked over to the sink. She poured the coffee out, rinsed the cup and placed it in the dish rack.

"He is making plans to overhaul the land and make it into a resort or golf course or whatever it is that your firm does."

"He can plan but he can't do anything."

"At least while we share the land."

"Three more weeks."

"Then you grab it from me and make your B and B."

"I'm not grabbing anything."

"So you'll give it to me?"

"What are you doing, John?" Joss demanded angrily.

"I'm trying to find out what you're doing, Jocelyn."

"I'm not doing anything!"

"And by 'not doing anything', you really mean that you are going to let your boyfriend raze this land—the land Sara and her parents and your parents, lived and raised families—so you can make a profit. You don't like this land, or this house, for that matter."

"Not fair, John."

"Not fair?!" John threw back at her. "Then tell me what you have planned when you've fulfilled your end of the will requirements."

"I hadn't thought about it," Joss evaded. She had given it thought—a lot of thought—but it was nothing she wanted to share since John had pretty much hit the nail on the head.

"I thought your firm had taught you to lie better than that. Blow a little smoke, slip a little cash, grease the right palm?"

"John," Joss warned.

"You want to sell this land. You want to get rid of any memory you have that's connected to this land and house." John slammed the glass down on the counter causing juice to slosh over the rim and on to the floor.

"Don't."

John looked angry. "Don't what? Tell the truth? Tell that you blame this house for losing your parents and messing up your life? Tell how you ran away from the only person who did their best to raise you and give you everything you wanted? Tell the truth that you are the unhappiest person I've ever met?"

"Oh yeah, like you're life is full of sunshine and rainbows! You adopted an old woman and ingratiated yourself into her life, then you latched on to a little boy because you don't have a family of your own," Joss spat back.

"Leave Taylor and Sara out of this," John warned.

"Why? Does the truth hurt?" Joss mocked.

John gave a short laugh. "Truth? You run from the truth. But if we are going to lay it on the table, I'll give you some hard truths. You ran away from here because you hated that Sara couldn't give you what you thought you deserved. You ignored her, shut her out, and turned your back on your only parent. All you had to do was give her a call and let her know you were alive, but you were too busy making money and hanging out with people like that Cal guy, to do one simple thing. Now you're back and you still harbour resentment toward Sara and that is why you want to take this house and destroy it."

Joss's eyes flash hard and hot. "You have no idea what you're talking about! _You_ ran away! _You_ left everything and everyone behind! If I did, it's because I learned from the best!"

"You're blaming me?! If anyone was selfish, it would be Jocelyn Carter."

"At least I'm not breaking my back working for scraps and trying to pretend that everything is hunky-dory," Joss shot back.

"No, you're just running away from who you really are. You're angry at God for taking your parents, so you're taking it out on everyone you used to love and people you could have loved. This is about revenge."

Anger contorted Joss's beautiful features. "That's it! When I get this house, I'm going to toss you out and level it to the ground."

"At this point, Joss, you can have it! I'm through walking on egg shells. Take it. Level it. Raze the whole property until you've exorcised every ghost haunting you. But you are never going to be free until you face up to your past."

John was breathing hard, the tears threatened to spill, but he still had his pride—despite losing everything in a moment.

Joss took in a shaky breath. "You have until the end of the week."

"Don't be so generous. We'll be gone by Wednesday," John countered. Squaring his shoulders, he stomped past her. A few moments later, the slamming of the front door shook the house.

Closing her eyes, Joss took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Remorse and regret filled her where a minute ago anger had gripped her tightly. What had she done?

"Don't go," she whispered to the empty room.


	31. Chapter 31

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

The mood at the kitchen table was somber. Despite the harsh words spoken earlier, the tradition of sitting at the table for every meal was kept. But the air was heavy and thick with words still left unspoken.

"Pass the bread," Joss requested, keeping her eyes downcast. A part of her was still hurt from what John had thrown at her, but she was also feeling guilty knowing that a part of what he said was true.

Picking up the basket, John passed it to his right. He looked up when his fingers brushed against Joss'. Their eyes met. The air crackled with tension. Before he could say anything, Joss lowered her eyes.

"Hey, sport, you okay?" John asked Taylor who was bent over his plate, picking at the food. Usually the little boy had a healthy appetite, but tonight he seemed disinterested. He had barely eaten one bite.

"I'm fine," Taylor replied. His fork moved the food around on the plate, but he didn't eat.

John tried to make small talk. "How was the community centre today?"

"It was okay."

"Did you get the chain finished?" John probed, trying to get Taylor to open up.

"No. Sharon was sick today." If he wasn't feeling bad enough, the girl he thought was his friend had stayed home. Then it didn't help that two bullies had commandeered the table and banished him to the corner of the room. They had even taken his cookies.

John reached over and touched Taylor's forehead. "You seem a little clammy. If you want, you can go up to bed; I'll bring you something hot to drink, okay?"

Taylor blinked quickly. "Okay," he whispered. Getting up from the chair, he shuffled across the floor and out the door. Bear looked at the door and then back at John. He whined pitifully.

"Are you done?" John asked out of the blue.

"I'm—no, not really," Joss said. "Why don't you go take care of Taylor? I'll clean up," she offered.

"I can do it," John turned her down.

"Taylor..."

"Don't worry about things that don't concern you."

"I was just trying to help."

"Don't." John abruptly stood up and grabbed Taylor's plate of uneaten food. Stepping over to the dog's dish, he scraped the left-overs into the bowl. "Here, boy," he called to the canine. Bear walked over, his nails click-clacked on the linoleum floor. He sniffed and then turned his head away. Again, he looked at the door and whined.

John put the plate in the sink. Then he grabbed his plate and tossed it into the sink with more force than what was necessary.

"John," Joss spoke up.

John turned around. "What, Joss?"

"I...I wanted to tell you..." Joss's voice trailed off. What exactly did she want to tell him? Her mind was saying one thing; her heart was saying another. But if the look in his eyes said anything, it might be wise to keep her mouth shut.

"What? What do you want to tell me, Joss? You want me to leave the dishes behind? Are you going to count the silverware as we walk out the door?" John knew he was being ridiculous, but his feelings were still raw from earlier. He just wanted to finish the chores and go to bed.

"Don't be absurd!" Joss felt the embers of her anger being stoked.

"I'm not the one who wants to level this place."

"I never said that," Joss replied hotly. "Don't put words in my mouth!"

"Pffft! I'm surprised you didn't invite your boyfriend to stay for dinner."

"Cal said he had to meet with people in Erie," Joss excused her boss' absence.

"Convenient."

"I'm surprised Zoe didn't call you in to fix the wiring...again," Joss shot back.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you," John scoffed with distaste.

"Who's jealous? If anyone is jealous, it would be you, John!"

John's eyebrows raised at the accusation. "I'm jealous? Of who? Mr. Moneybags?" He turned back to watch as the sink filled with hot soapy water.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you," Joss mocked. She stood up and walked to the counter with her plate. "And you are."

"What do you want, Joss?" John turned off the faucet and dipped his hands in the water.

"I'm not the one trying to pick a fight, John."

"Maybe I'm in the mood for a fight." John started scrubbing the frying pan harder than usual.

"Are you saying that this is my fault?" Joss was indignant at the implication.

"I'm not the one who lead my boyfriend here."

"I didn't tell him I was here," Joss denied vehemently.

"Well, he found you. And he sees where you live, and now his mind is going in a hundred different directions with what he can do with it."

"What do you care? You're leaving on Wednesday!"

"Sooner, if I could." John rinsed the pan and literally tossed it into the dish drainer. He started on the plate.

"You and me both."

John threw the dishcloth into the water. He turned around. "Just answer me this: Why did you come back?"

"Because..." Joss trailed off.

"I'm waiting."

"I don't know why I came back, okay? I've thought about it a hundred times, and I have no reason for why I left everything I cared for in Los Angeles and came back here, okay?" Joss was distressed by having to admit her failure.

"Just as I thought. You still don't care about anyone other than yourself."

"At least I didn't lie about it and string people along with false promises of forever," Joss returned with her own barb.

John looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Joss gave a short laugh. "Come on, John, don't pretend you don't know."

"No, Joss, I don't know. Please refresh my memory."

"Wow. I knew that I was inexperienced, but I didn't think I was that bad," Joss replied with sarcasm to try and hid the hurt of rejection.

"You weren't."

"Liar. Why else did you up and leave me for her?" Joss choked out on the sob she was trying so hard to keep down.

John blinked. "Her?"

"Jessica!"

John tried to reply but the words wouldn't come.

"You lied to me! You used me and led me on with promises of love and forever, then you left me for the first woman you meet in the Navy!"

John closed his eyes and tried to get his bearings. "Joss, let me explain."

"There is nothing to explain! You lied to me! You broke my heart! You killed that little part of me that still wanted to believe in love!" Joss ranted. The hot tears fell from her eyes. Her heart hurt so much, she thought it was going to burst from her chest.

"Jessica was—"

"I don't care!" Joss interrupted. "I hate her! And I hate you!"

John tried to grab Joss's wrists to keep her calm. "Let me explain. If you would just listen," he pleaded.

Joss pulled back. "Let me go! Do you want to know why I want to get rid of this house and you? Do you want to know why I'm involved with Cal Beecher?" Joss asked rhetorically. "Because of you! You are the reason I ran away and never wanted to come back! I don't care if you freeze when you leave; I never want to see you again!"

John went to speak in his defense, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by the sound of a sneeze. Startled, he looked at Joss.

"What was that?" he asked.

"What?"

"That noise." John hurried to the kitchen door. He opened it, expecting to find someone on the other side, but the room was empty. He strained to hear footsteps or any other noise to indicate that whoever had been there, was still lingering. Nothing.

John's heart sank. Was it possible that Taylor had been on the other side and heard everything? He had to get to his boy.

"John."

"Hold that thought." John hurried toward the stairs when a knock on the door sounded. Sighing heavily, he answered it and found Cal on the other side.

"Did I come at a bad time?" Cal asked innocently.

"As a matter of fact, you did. May I help you?" John replied.

"Is Joss here?"

"Sure. Come in." John held the door open. Cal walked inside.

"Can we talk?" Cal asked.

"Don't have time. Sorry. My son needs me," John excused himself as politely as he could.

Joss appeared in the doorway. "Cal. I thought you were in Erie."

"I was. I thought if you haven't eaten, maybe we can go out," Cal invited.

"I have eaten."

Cal looked a little disappointed by the news. "Oh."

"How about a drink?"

"Sure."

"Let me get my coat." Joss breezed past John to the coat tree and grabbed her winter coat. Pulling it on, she buttoned it, then wrapped the heavy scarf three time around her neck before knotting it. "I'm ready."

"I promise not to keep her out too late," Cal said.

"None of my concern."

Joss twitched her lip in response. "Let's go." She pushed the screen door open and walked out into the cold night air. Shrugging, Cal looked at John, then he followed Joss. He closed the door silently behind him.

Grateful for the peace and quiet, John hurried up the stairs to Taylor's bedroom. Knocking, he waited before turning the knob.

"Taylor?" he called out to the dark room.

"What?"

"Are you awake?"

"Sort of."

John turned on the small lamp. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Are you okay? I thought I heard a noise."

"I've been up here," Taylor evaded answering directly.

"I thought maybe you overheard me and Joss arguing," John confessed.

"I've been up here. I promise."

John looked Taylor and tried to read his eyes for the truth. "We're leaving."

"What do you mean? Leaving where?"

"I'm going to give Joss the house. We'll stay with Lionel and Sam until we find another place."

Taylor sat up. "But I like it here," he protested.

John looked at him sadly. "I know that you do, son."

"Pay her off."

"I don't have the money," John admitted.

"Use mine."

"I can't, Taylor."

"Yes, you can! I'm giving it to you! Take it! Give it to her! Make her go away!" Taylor demanded. His eyes filled with tears of anger and sadness.

"It's not that simple." If it only were, John thought to himself. What was it about Joss arriving that had thrown his life into a complete tailspin?

"You don't love me," Taylor sobbed.

"Taylor, I love you. I couldn't love you more if you were my own son," John argued. He reached out to hold Taylor, but the boy pushed him away.

"You only want me because you can't have children of your own," Taylor cried.

John looked flummoxed. "Where did you hear that? Taylor, that's not true."

"Go away," Taylor ordered.

"Taylor..."

Taylor threw himself down on the mattress and turned his back to John. He pulled the covers over his head.

"Go away," he repeated, his words muffled.

Realizing anything he said would be futile, John sighed and stood up. He waited and hoped Taylor would turn over and look at him. But he didn't. Giving up, he turned out the light and walked to the door. He paused. Then he closed the door behind him.  
************

"Are you sure you're okay?" Zoe asked, standing before the ladder with two huge mugs of coffee in her hands.

"Yeah, the weather is great," John replied as he expertly connected the two lines together, secured them, then screwed them tightly against the beam.

"Yeah. Come on down. Take a break," she offered. No response. "As your boss, I'm ordering you to take a break. Now."

John stepped down the ladder. "Thanks." He took a mug but didn't drink.

"What's wrong?" Zoe asked.

"Nothing."

"John Reese, you are an excellent handyman, but you suck at lying. Sit." She took a seat at her desk. John took the chair directly across. "Talk to me."

"Joss and I had a fight."

"That would explain it."

"Explain what?"

"Your attitude and demeanor. You walked in this morning and didn't even say hello," she chastised.

"I'm sorry," John replied meekly.

"Don't be sorry; I just want to know what is going on. Three days ago you were literally walking on air. Now you're walking around as though someone has stolen your favourite puppy. What's going on?"

"Joss's fiance showed up."

Zoe looked surprised. "Fiance? Joss is engaged?"

"Yes. No. She says she isn't; Cal says otherwise."

"Cal..." Zoe searched her memory for anything that she could link to the name. "That guy who was in here the other day?"

Now it was John's turn to look surprised. "He was here?"

"You saw him, remember? I thought he was one of your military buddies."

John dropped his shoulders.

"What happened? Is she leaving with him?"

"Worse. He wants to convert the land into a resort."

Zoe's eyebrows furrowed. "Can he do that?"

"Only if I give Joss the title to the land. And I am."

Zoe held up her hands. "Wait! What? You're going to let her turn that piece of heaven into a resort? Are you crazy?"

"Maybe," John admitted. "But it's for the best."

"For who? You love it there. Taylor loves it there. Sara wanted you to have the land and the house."

"I can live without it." John kept his eyes downcast as he spoke.

"But you can't live without Taylor. Or Joss." Zoe kept a keen eye on John as he looked up. "Oh, come on. You think I can't tell that you are head over heels in love with her?"

"I'm not feeling it right now."

"A moment is nothing compared to a lifetime. You love her."

"And I'm going to lose her. And the house." But he was going to be able to keep Taylor. It was a small consolation.

"I guess. When do you leave?"

"She gave me to the end of the week; I told we would vacate tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? John, are you crazy?"

"It's for the best."

"Best for whom? You? Taylor? Where are you going to stay?"

"Lionel and Sam have a guest house on the property. They're going to let us live there until we can find a place."

"The hearing is in a couple of weeks," Zoe reminded him. "You still have visits from that woman; you can't live in a guest house!"

"Sam is going to explain to the judge—"

"Explain what? Kara isn't going to care who is right or wrong; she is out to get you. She wants to destroy you. This just gave her ammunition," Zoe said passionately.

John shook his head wearily. "What do you want me to do, Zoe? I've prayed for an answer. I've done everything I was supposed to, but I'm not getting anywhere."

"I wish I knew."

"After the first of the year, we'll be on our feet again," John promised.

"I hope you're right." Zoe lifted the mug to her lips. "Besides, it can't get any worse than this, right?"  
*******

"I bought the sheets you requested," Lionel said into the phone as he settled into the car. He put the key in the ignition and turned on the engine to held heat up the cold interior.

"Thanks," Samantha replied.

"Do you want me to take them home, or drop them off with you?"

"Keep them. We'll have time to make up the beds later." Samantha sighed and looked around at the desks. No matter how close she was to John and Taylor, she missed Joss's help. What she would give to have her here right now.

"Okay."

"I guess we can go grocery shopping later." Samantha picked up a folder. Where was that dossier? "Darn it!"

"What's wrong?"

"I can't find an important dossier I need for court."

"Go without."

"I can't show up to court without information pertaining to my client," Samantha fumed. She knew she had had that file in her hot little hands before leaving yesterday. Where had she put it?

"What do you want me to do?"

"Go get Joss. Tell her that I need her to come in."

"No way!"

"Lionel!"

"Are you crazy?! I'm not going any where near her!"

"I need her. Only she knows this filing system that she created."

"I'll come look for you."

"Lionel, I'm an officer of the court."

"So?"

"I'm issuing an order to a fellow officer. Go get Joss and bring her to me. Or sleep on the couch."

Lionel shifted angrily on the front seat of the patrol car. He mumbled unintelligently every curse word he knew—and then some.

"I heard that!"

"Sam..."

"Please, Lionel. For me."

Against his better judgment, Lionel gave in. "Okay."

"Thank you."

"Well, you did say please. I'll have her there in half an hour."

"You're the best. I love you."

Lionel groaned under his breath. "I love you too." He clicked the phone off, throwing it on to the seat. "Here goes nothing." He put the car in gear and headed toward the Carter residence.


	32. Chapter 32

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Taylor waited until he heard John's truck tire crunch over the snow as it was backed out of the driveway. Moving the curtain just an inch, he squinted to see the truck move forward down the road before disappearing into the horizon.

Slowly he let out his breath. The coast was clear. Almost. He still had to make it past Joss and Bear. Shoving a pair of jeans, a shirt, a few books, and his piggy bank inside his backpack, he zipped it up. Picking up a pen, he quickly jotted down a good-bye note to John. With tears in his eyes, he scrawled his name at the bottom.

Taking one look around the room he had come to call his own, Taylor felt his heart squeeze painfully. It was going to hurt to leave, but he had to. The burden he was placing on John was too much for his conscience to bear. Yeah, John might miss him, but someday he would have his own real little boy to love and call his own. Maybe one without so many problems. Maybe one that wouldn't bring social workers around.

Taylor pulled on his coat, then his boots, and finally his wool cap. He had enough money to make it to the next town, then he could start looking for his dad. Maybe if he apologized, then maybe his dad might take him back. Anything was possible.

Pulling the backpack on his back, Taylor opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. Stealthily, he tip-toed across the floor to the stairs. His ears strained to hear Joss moving around.

" _Sameen, this is Joss; please call me as soon as you get this."_

Taylor waited until the footsteps faded to the back of the house before he slowly descended, taking care to miss the creaking step that could give away his plan. He held his breath until he was at the landing. He sniffed the air. Coffee. Joss would be preoccupied for the next few minutes—or so he hoped.

Across the living room to the front door, Taylor eased it open just wide enough to squeeze thru, then closed it silently behind him. He shivered in the cold. He should have put on another pair of socks. No matter, once he got to his secret hideaway, he would put the extra clothes on.

On quick feet he hurried across the porch to the backyard. He knew that if Joss looked out the back door, she wouldn't be able to see him. As the wind picked up, he made his way thru the snow, across the little slope, to the pond. Already out of breath, Taylor was determined to make it his way across.

Stepping on the ice, he tested its strength. It seemed strong enough. After all, he and John were supposed to go skating tomorrow. Walking across, Taylor barely heard the crack, but he heard the snap as the ice below him gave way.

Before he could process the moment, he was plunging feet first into the frigid water. Shocked senseless, all he could feel was the way the water gripped and held him—filling his nostrils and mouth—as he struggled to get free. Water filled his backpack to weigh him down. He could barely move his legs as he fought to get to the surface.

Dad! His mind screamed. Dad, help! But his lips couldn't move.

Releasing himself from the backpack, he pushed himself up to the edge of the ice. He grasped the edge and pulled his head above water. With everything he had, he screamed.  
*************

"Sameen, this is Joss. Call me when you get this."

Joss disconnected the call. How many messages had she left for her receptionist over the past week? Too many to count, she groused. She shivered. Where had the cold air come from?

Walking out to the living room, she checked to see if the door was open. Nope, closed tight. So were the windows. Still, something didn't feel right. Maybe she should check on Taylor? Then again, not such a good idea. Maybe when Kara came to pick him up, she could begin to relax.

Bear whined.

"What's wrong?" she asked rhetorically. The canine whined again, going to the front door and nudged it with his nose.

"You want to go out?" Bear looked at her. "Do you need to..." What was that word in Danish for 'business'? Bear whined, danced in a circle. "I don't speak dog; what do you want?"

In response, Bear barked loudly. He went over and grabbed Joss by the sleeve.

"Wha—what are you doing?" she demanded. Bear growled in response as he tried to drag her to the front door. "You want out? Okay, I'll let you out."

As Joss opened the door, Bear shot out in a flash. Dumbfounded by the unusual behaviour, Joss watched as he bounded off the porch and around the house. She shook her head. Something caught her eye. Were those little footprints in the snow? She looked closer. They weren't John's; could they be Taylor's? But why would Taylor be outside?

Frantic barking caught her ear. Descending the steps, Joss walked around the corner of the house and looked to see Bear in the far distance. _Something is definitely wrong with John's crazy dog,_ she thought to herself, before turning to walk back inside.

But the barking continued.

 _What in the world is going on with..._

Before Joss could finish her thought, a scream pierced the air. Her blood went as cold as the air. The scream happened again.

"HELP!"

 _TAYLOR!_

Joss ran as fast as she could toward the cry. Across the snow she flew—slipping twice—despite the bite of cold air on her skin. Her focus was only on John's young charge and what might have happened to him.

As Joss approached the slope, Bear disappeared. "Oh God! Not the pond!" Joss said as her heart plunged into her stomach. She raced to the edge. "Taylor! Taylor!" she called out frantically, hoping it wasn't too late for a response.

"Help!" Taylor cried out helplessly.

"No. No. No." Without thought for her own safety, Joss jumped into the water. What felt like a thousand knife points stabbed her from head to toe, but she disregarded it as she tried to save the little boy fighting for his life.

"Taylor, listen to me," she said, trying to hold him down. "Don't fight me, okay? I'm going to help you up to the edge, okay?"

"I can't," Taylor said, his teeth chattering furiously. He was so cold.

"Yes, you can," Joss contradicted sternly, "but you have to work with me. Can you do that?"

He could barely feel his legs, but he was going to try. "Y-y-yeah."

Joss could feel the freezing water sapping the strength and energy out of her, but she pulled something from deep down inside. Grabbing Taylor by the waist, she lifted him as high as she could.

"Grab the edge," she ordered. Desperate for survival, Taylor clawed at the edge of the sheet of ice until he got a firm hold. With Joss's assistance, he pulled himself up. The cold wind hit his wet clothes, making him shiver harder.

Taylor was safe. Joss took a moment to relish in saving the boy. Now it was time to save herself. She tried to grab the ice and pull herself up, but something was tugging on her foot. She tried to yank herself free.

"Joss, take my hand," Taylor said. He reached out his hand to her to return the favour.

Joss tried to do as he encouraged but the water was pulling her down. Opening her eyes, she saw the strap of the backpack around her ankle. She tried to reach down and pull it off, but her fingers wouldn't work. It was so cold but she no longer felt it as darkness enveloped her.  
******************

Lionel pulled the truck up into the driveway. Of all the places he could be right now, this was definitely not at the top of his list. He could be at Widow Reynolds having a cup of cocoa and some of those delicious shortbread cookies. But no, he had to be with the Ice Queen, he brooded to himself silently.

He sighed. But Sam asked him to stop by and get Joss, and he wasn't about to disobey a direct order from his wife.

Lionel climbed out of the car. The faster he got this over, the faster he could get back to his routine.

A sound he couldn't identify caught his ear. He strained to listen. Was that a dog barking? He took a few steps forward to get closer to the noise. Moment later, Bear came bounding out of nowhere, barking and yelping.

"What in the—?" he asked stupidly. He watched Bear run back in the same direction from which he came. It was almost as though he was encouraging Lionel to follow him.

"Help! Help!"

That was Taylor! Jumping back into his patrol car, Lionel shoved the engine into drive and floored the gas pedal. In the blink of an eye, he was at the slope. Jumping out, he saw Taylor on the edge of the pond.

"Taylor!" He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I fell in," Taylor sobbed. "Joss saved me."

Anything he might have felt for the woman was chased out by the fear that gripped his heart. "Where is she?" Lionel asked.

"In the water. She went under. I can't find her."

Lionel pulled off his heavy winter coat and threw it to the ground. "Stay here," he ordered. "Don't move."

Before Lionel could act, Bear jumped into the water and attempted his own rescue. Going under once, twice, he barked his desperation at not finding Joss.

"Bear, come here!" Lionel commanded. Instead, the dog ignored him and went under for a third time. Five seconds later he surfaced with Joss's shirt collar in his teeth. With everything he had, he swam toward Lionel and safety.

"Bring her to me, boy," Lionel encouraged. Despite the cold water, Bear did as he was told. He dragged Joss's limp body close enough to the edge so Lionel could reach down and pull her up. As he grabbed the woman, his trained ears heard the ominous crack in the ice.

 _Please, God, wait until I have her up,_ he prayed. Using everything he had, Lionel took hold of Joss's shirt and pulled her up out of the water and dragged her to the safety of the snow covered earth. He lightly slapped her cheeks.

"Joss. Joss. Can you hear me?" He put his ear to her mouth. "She's not breathing." Training kicked in. Covering his mouth over hers, Lionel started to breathe his life into Joss's lung. He paused.

Nothing.

He repeated the process.

Nothing.

One more breath.

Joss jerked upward as she regained consciousness. The freezing cold air hit her skin, but all she could think of was expelling the nasty pond water from her lungs. Vomiting hard, she replaced the water with beloved oxygen. Lionel turned her over to her side to prevent her from choking.

Shivering violently, she opened her eyes and saw Lionel kneeling over her. "Taylor." She struggled to sit up but Lionel pushed her back down.

"Don't move, Joss," he cautioned.

"I have to find Taylor," her voice was so weak as the strength left her body.

"Taylor's fine," Lionel assured. "I need to get you both to the hospital."

"Okay," Joss whispered before passing out.

"Give me my coat," Lionel ordered. Taylor handed it over. Lionel quickly wrapped Joss up in its warmth. "Can you walk to the car?" he asked Taylor.

"Y-y-yes," Taylor chattered his reply.

"Get in and get warm; take Bear; I'll be right behind you." Lionel put an arm around Joss' torso and another under her legs, and lifted her up. He held her tight as he carefully maneuvered the slope, taking care not to slip.

Making his way to the car, Lionel's numbly felt for the handle of the passenger door. Cursing under his breath, he finally got his fingers to cooperate. The warm air hit him in the face as he gently laid Joss on the backseat. Making her as comfortable as he could, he closed the door with his hip and blew on his hands.

Toes numb from the cold and snow, Lionel hurried around the car and jumped in the driver's side. He looked over at the small boy huddled in the passenger seat.

"Taylor, you okay?" he asked with genuine concern.

"I can't get warm." Tears from cold and shock streamed down his face. Lionel turned the heater on full blast. But even that wasn't enough to chase away the cold that had seeped way down into their bones.

"Put on your seatbelt, son. I'm going to get you two some help," Lionel promised. He threw the engine into reverse, making a one-eighty. He touched the gas lightly and held the steering wheel tight until the car was in the driveway. Once he had traction, he picked up the comm.

"Fusco to base. Copy?"

"Base to Fusco. Over."

"Please alert the hospital that I am on my way with two victims who were pulled from a pond. Both are possibly suffering from hypothermia. ETA is five minutes. Over."

"Alerting the hospital admin for standby, Sheriff."

"Fusco out." He dropped the comm, put his foot on the accelerator and sped toward help. He prayed that he wouldn't be late.


	33. Chapter 33

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

John burst thru the doors of the hosptital's Emergency Room. Frantically he looked around for someone—anyone—who could give him answers to what had just happened. He spied a nurse at the front desk.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for two patients who were just brought in," John said. It was taking all of his battle field training to keep his voice calm. The nurse looked at the list of recent admittance of patients. "Their names are Joss Carter and Taylor—"

"John?" Samantha spoke up, cutting John off.

Turning around, relief coursed thru John that at least a familiar face was at the hospital. "Sam. I got here as quickly as I could. What happened?" He grabbed her in a tight hug. She pulled back.

Samantha shook her head. "I don't know. I came as soon as I got the call from Lionel. All I know is Taylor fell into the pond and Joss jumped in to save him," she relayed everything Lionel had told her.

John appeared flummoxed by the information. "What was Taylor doing by the pond?" He knew better. It had been drilled into him from day one, by Sara and him, that Taylor was never to go near the pond by himself.

"I honestly don't know." Samantha took his arm and led him to the row of chairs by the wall. "Sit down, John."

"Where's Lionel?" John needed answers, and he need those answers now! At the moment it seemed only Lionel had them.

"He's getting us something to drink. Please, sit down."

John sat down heavily on the plastic chair. He buried his face in his hands. "I don't understand how this could have happened," he said in disbelief.

"Everything is going to be okay," Samantha assured, although she knew deep down inside that there were going to be repercussions. But she was ready to take on Kara with everything she had.

"How do you know that, Sam? I almost lost Taylor and Joss," John argued, his voice rough from unshed tears.

"You didn't. And I'm sure the doctor will be out as soon as he finishes the examinations. We just have to be patient."

"I can't lose them."

Samantha's smile was soft and understanding. "I know."

The double doors opened and a tall man in a white exam coat walked toward them. John stood up. He tried to read the man's face to get an idea of what news he might have regarding Joss and Taylor. But the physician's face remained stoic.

"John Reese?" the doctor asked.

"How are they?" John demanded.

"They're lucky. Another minute or two in that water, there could have been serious consequences," the doctor replied without elaborating.

"They're going to be okay?" John held his breath as he waited for confirmation.

"Well, Taylor has a touch of frostbite and a little hypothermia, but he'll recover without any complications," the doctor relayed the news.

John breathed a sigh of relief. "And Joss?" His heart skipped a beat.

"She's suffering from hypothermia. She ingested a good amount of the pond water and I want to make sure she doesn't develop an infection. Or worse, pneumonia."

"But she's going to be okay?"

"I'm waiting for the radiologist's report regarding the X-rays. Until then, I'm going to keep both of them here overnight—Joss may need to stay another day so we can monitor her lungs," the doctor said. "But I'm sure they are both out of the woods."

"Thank you." John took the doctor's hand and shook it vigorously.

"You need to be thanking Sheriff Fusco for being at the right place at the right time. Another couple of minutes..." The doctor smiled. "You have a great husband there, Mrs. Fusco."

"I know," Samantha replied.

"When can I see them?" John asked.

"Give it another half hour. I'll send a nurse out so you can visit them. Oh, by the way, we brought the local vet in. Seems your dog is going to make a full recovery, too," the doctor said as an afterthought.

John looked confused. "Bear?" His mind raced. Bear had been there too? What exactly had happened?

"Seems the dog jumped in to save Ms. Carter. He is going to be alright. He has a great constitution."

"Where is Bear?" John looked around the reception area for his canine companion.

"Right now? He's with Ms. Carter. We finally got him to lay under her bed instead of on it," the doctor chuckled. "He seems to have taken a liking to her."

John's throat constricted with emotion. "Thank you, Doctor."

The doctor laid a comforting hand on John's shoulder. "It's going to be okay. Relax. Get a cup of coffe. We'll get you in to see them as soon as we can." He turned on his heel, disappearing thru the double doors.

"They're going to be okay, Sam," John whispered. With a shaky hand he brushed the stray tears of relief from his cheeks. In an instant, his life had almost come to an end. Everything he loved was almost lost in an instant. Now it was going to be okay; they were safe and sound. John closed his eyes and said a quick prayer of thanks.

Samantha shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "John..." Her voice trailed off. How was she supposed to deliver the news she didn't want to? She took a deep breath. "There's something you need to know."

John looked at her. There was something in her tone that seemed to take the thrill from the moment. "What?"

"It concerns Taylor and the repercussions of what happened."

"What do you mean?" Taylor was safe. Joss was safe. Everything was good, right?

"You'd better sit down."  
*************

"Hey Sport," John greeted from the doorway of Taylor's hospital room. He walked over to the side of the bed. "How are you?"

Suddenly ashamed, Taylor bowed his head and started crying.

"What's wrong, Taylor?" John asked gently.

"It's all my fault."

"It's no one's fault." Now was not the time to assign blame. They could worry about that later.

"Yes, it is!" Taylor contradicted.

"Come here," John offered, opening his arms wide. Taylor went into them, wrapping his thin arms around John's waist. "It's okay." He rubbed Taylor's back soothingly. For a few minutes Taylor sobbed his little heart out.

Eventually the storm passed. John patted Taylor's back.

"You okay?"

Taylor nodded, wiping his runny nose with the back of his hand. "Y-y-yes," he stammered.

John grabbed a Kleenex from the box on the nightstand. "Here. Wipe your nose." He sat down on the chair. "Tell me what happened."

"I ran away," Taylor confessed.

"You ran... Why?"

"Because I thought you would be better without me." The empty well of tears was refilled. "I thought maybe you would be able to keep the house if I was gone," Taylor tried to explain his young way of trying to rationalize an adult problem.

"Oh, Taylor. I wish you had come to me."

"I wanted to find my real dad," Taylor continued his explanation. "I thought that if I apologized and promised to do better, he might take me back." The tears fell hot and fast to stain the front of his hospital gown.

"I'm sorry."

Taylor blinked. "You're sorry?" He was confused. John had nothing to be sorry for; what could he mean?

John sighed. "I'm sorry that I didn't make you feel as though you could come to me when you needed to."

"I was afraid."

"I know."

"How is Joss?" Taylor asked hestantly. Although he was still afraid of her, she had jumped in to save his life. And she had almost died. His heart softened.

"She's pretty banged up. Seems she swallowed and breathed in a lot of the pond water. And she suffered hypothermia," John relayed. "The doctors are going to keep her here for a couple of days." He patted Taylor's shoulder. "But you get to come home tomorrow."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, son." John wasn't going to burden the child with what Sam had told him. It could wait until they knew for sure.

A knock on the door. A nurse with a food tray walked into the room.

"You must be Taylor," she said happily.

"I am."

"I heard from a little bird that you like cheeseburgers and fries."

Taylor hesitated. "Yeah. I mean, yes ma'am," he quickly corrected.

The nurse placed the food tray on the rolling table. "Well, it's your lucky day. Our cook found you a cheeseburger and fries." She pushed the table over the bed and lifted the lid. The aroma tickled Taylor's nose and caused his stomach to rumble.

"Thank you."

"We also found you a pudding because I heard you don't like jell-o," the nurse added. "Is it okay if he has chocolate milk?" she asked John. He nodded it was.

"Well, you eat your dinner, then I'll be in later to get your vitals," she told him. Taylor mumbled something around the bite he had taken from the burger. The nurse left Taylor to finish his dinner.

"What do you say we watch the game after you're done?" John suggested.

Taylor yawned. "Sure." He polished off the burger and fries in a flash, then leaned back against the pillows.

"You okay, son?" John asked, eyeing the sleepy child.

"I'm okay," Taylor slurred, trying to keep his eyes open, but it was hard. All he wanted to do was sleep for a little while. He yawned widely. John reached over and tucked the covers around him.

"Why don't you get some rest, son?"

"Are you going to leave me?" There was slight desperation in Taylor's voice.

"I'm going to check on Joss, then I'll be back. I promise."

"Okay," Taylor sighed. "Tell her I'm sorry."

John laid his hand on Taylor's head. "I will. Get some sleep." He tip-toed out of the room, bumping into the nurse. "He's out like a light," he told her.

"We'll take care of him, Mr. Reese. Why don't you go get a cup of coffee?"

"I'm going to check on Ms. Carter."

"Third floor."

"Thanks." John walked to the elevator and pushed the button. Two minutes later he was on the third floor. Standing outside Joss' room, he hesitated. So much had gone down between them over the last day; he wondered if they could find a happy medium.

Standing outside the door, John peeked inside. A nurse was just removing the blood pressure cuff from around Joss' arm. Bear was standing beside the bed to insure that nothing nefarious was happening.

Joss was fast asleep, but even in slumber she looked distressed. There were black circles under her eyes and tension was obvious in the lines in her forehead. She looked so helpless lying there on the cold, sterile hospital bed, under the blankets to help keep her warm. John felt his heart squeeze painfully.

Finished with her duties, the nurse rolled the blood pressure machine out of the room and nearly bumped into John. "You must be John Reese," she greeted with a smile.

"I am."

"She was asking for you before she fell asleep," the nurse relayed.

"How is she doing?" John asked hesitantly.

"The doctor is right behind you; I'm sure he'll be able to answer any of your questions," the nurse deferred to the short, nearly balding man.

"Are you a friend of Joss Carter?" the doctor asked.

"I am a caretaker for her late grandmother's farm," John answered without getting into specifics..

"John Reese. I've heard of you."

John flicked his gaze quickly to Joss, then back to the doctor. "How is she?"

"As you may know, she swallowed a lot of water. Her body temperature went down a couple of degrees, but that's not what is worrying me," the doctor replied. His tone was serious.

"What do you mean?"

"Were you aware that Ms. Carter has had blood pressure problems?" the doctor asked point blank.

John was taken aback by the question. "What do you mean?" Joss looked healthy—at least he thought she looked healthy.

"Maybe I shouldn't say anything, but I've spoken with her doctor in L.A. Apparently she was diagnosed four months ago. Her blood pressure was hovering near the danger zone. It's no surprise that with her executive life-style and stress and unhealthy diet, that it would happen. Her doctor warned her to live a less stressful life, get more exercise, and lay off the caffiene for a while."

The doctor looked down at his notes. "What happened today isn't going to help her."

"What do you mean?"

"The shock of the cold water and trauma of Taylor's rescue is going to add more stress. I see that her grandmother passed away two weeks ago?" the doctor observed as he glanced over the medical notes on Joss' chart.

"She did," John confirmed.

"So, Joss has been under a lot of stress—in addition to what she was already experiencing."

"Is there anything I can do?" John wondered.

"Keep her stress level down. Get her to rest more. Lay off the caffiene. She doesn't need to be flying back to L.A. right now. I'll get in touch with her doctor and see if he'll allow me to treat her here for the time being."

"When will she be allowed to come home?" John asked.

"A couple of days. I want to monitor her and if everything checks out, I'll release her," the doctor replied confidently.

"Thanks."

"It's going to be okay," the doctor assured.

"May I see her?"

"Sure. I hear your little boy is here too. If you want, we'll set you up a cot so you can spend the night with him."

John's smile was small but appreciative. "Thanks. I'd like that."

The doctor patted John's shoulder. "I'll go let the nurse know." He smiled then walked away.

John hesitated outside the door. Everything he had felt for Joss before was replaced by a myriad of feelings he couldn't understand. Stepping into the room, he walked over to the side of her bed. Despite all the noise from the machines, he tried to listen to her breathe. Instead, he watched the slight rise and fall of her chest. He could breathe a sigh of relief that she was still alive.

Taking her hand in his, he held it tight. Maybe he was imaging it, but that electricity was there again. And despite everything that had transpired between them, John knew that his heart was falling. Or had it never stopped falling? He wasn't going to try and analyze it right now.

Sitting down in the chair beside the bed, he held her hand tightly. "You saved Taylor. I can't thank you enough for that. I owe you." He sighed. "I don't know what happened between us, Joss, but I know that we can find a way back."

Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "Just give us a chance."


	34. Chapter 34

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

John guided the truck up the driveway and turned off the engine. He cast a sideways glance at Joss who was sitting in the passenger seat. Despite the doctor clearing her to go home, he still worried. He had spent the better part of the night looking up everything he could find about her current medical condition. It was alarming and informative. Armed with that knowledge, he felt more confident to help her heal.

"Here we are," John announced.

Joss looked at the two-story farmhouse. All of her life she had despised the structure she blamed for everything bad that had happened to her. Now she was experiencing a weird sense of relief to be returning to it.

She opened the truck door. Immediately, John was beside her holding out a hand to assist. "Here, let me help."

"I'm quite capable of walking to the house, John," Joss declined.

"The doctor said not to let you get overworked."

"Twenty feet isn't going to kill me."

"Let me help."

Joss sighed. "I fell into a pond, not the ocean. I'm okay," she argued.

"You nearly drowned," John contradicted. "You're still healing. Give me your hand, Joss." He thrust his hand out toward her again. Joss took it and let him help her down.

"Okay. You win. But don't hover over me," she warned. But she felt a weird thrill at the way John stood close to support her across the cobblestone walkway, up the stairs to the porch, to the couch inside where he helped her sit.

"I'd rather have the chair," she voiced.

"Doctor said to keep your feet up."

"I can put my feet up on the ottoman."

"Couch for today," John replied firmly. Joss rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay. May I have a cup of coffee?" she asked.

"Herbal tea."

"I have been drinking herbal tea for two days," Joss argued. "I want a cup of coffee."

"Doctor's orders."

Joss groaned. "It's medical advice; not set in stone. I can have one cup," she declared.

"Maybe tomorrow. For now, herbal teas and fruit juice."

"She can have my kool-aid," Taylor piped up from the chair in the corner.

Instantly contrite, Joss gave him a smile. "Thank you, Taylor. I'll take the kool-aid."

"I'll be back. I need to check on the animals first. Stay here," John ordered Joss. He walked toward the kitchen.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Taylor wondered as he tried to start a conversation. There was still a little part of him that didn't trust Joss, but she had saved his life. And she had almost died in the process.

"What do you want to watch?" Joss asked casually.

"Whatever you want to," Taylor replied vaguely.

"How about that dog movie?" Joss suggested.

"Sure." Taylor looked down at his shoes. "I'm sorry for...causing so much trouble," he apologized.

"You made a mistake."

Taylor swallowed hard. "I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt." He hadn't. All he wanted to do was make everyone feel better, but all he did was make things worse.

"Accidents happen. We all do things we can't explain." And who knew that better than Joss Carter?

"I just thought everyone would feel better if I went away," Taylor tried to rationalize his excuse the best way he could with his ten year old brain.

Joss' heart broke at the way Taylor's face crumbled. "Come here," she said, opening her arms. Taylor gave her a wary look. "Come."

Needing no further urging, Taylor went into her embrace. Automatically, Joss' arms went around Taylor's thin frame to hold him tight. She felt the dampness on her shirt from the tears that fell silently.

"I'm not angry," she comforted the distraught boy. "If you want to know a secret, I fell into the pond once when I was about your age," she confessed.

"Nu-uh."

"I did. I wanted to go skating but Grandma Sara was busy with a church project. So...I snuck out. I got on the ice and I didn't really know the first thing about testing it. Next thing you know...splash!"

Taylor looked up at her in surprised. "Were you scared?"

"Oh, very much," Joss confessed.

"What did you do?" Taylor held his breath as he waited for the rest of the story.

"I got lucky. I managed to pull myself up on to a sheet of ice. Then I headed back home to change clothes."

"Did you tell Grandma?"

Joss shook her head. "No. I was too ashamed to admit that I had disobeyed her. I pretended it had never happened."

"Why?" Taylor asked, confused by the confession. "Grandma wouldn't have gotten mad." At least not the Grandma Sara that he had come to know. Even when he had spilled his milk while being clumsy, she had smiled to calm him down and wiped up the mess.

"I don't know," Joss replied honestly. "But I learned that day a powerful lesson." _The wrong lesson_ , she thought regretfully.

"I'm sorry that you got scared," Taylor said softly. He didn't know why he felt sorry for Joss doing the same thing he had done, but she looked so sad. He could see the sadness in her eyes. Maybe all she needed was a friend. "If you want, I'll be your friend."

For the first time in a long time, Joss felt something pierce her heart. "I'd like that," she whispered hoarsely.

Taylor snuggled closer and closed his eyes. With her arms around him, he had never felt safer. He breathed in deeply. "You smell good," he complimented. "My mom used to smell good."

Joss was unable to respond.

"She used to hold me. Will you hold me?" Taylor said with a yawn before he drifted off to sleep.

Tears pricked Joss's eyes. "Sure." She tightened her arms around him and laid her chin on top of his head. She closed her eyes and felt herself relax. A couple of minutes later their breathing was the only sound in the room.

"If you're ready for lunch..." John announced before stopping short. He looked at Joss and Taylor sleeping soundly on the couch. They looked so peaceful that he didn't want to disturb them. Lifting up the afghan from the ottoman, he laid it over the pair, and then tip-toed out of the room.  
**********************

"I thought I'd find you here," Kara Staton announced as she walked into Samantha's office.

"I can't imagine what brings you here today, Kara," Samantha replied in a totally professional tone.

"Can't I stop by and say hello?"

"If anyone else had asked that, would say yes."

"Aren't you a little paranoid?" Kara asked with a little laugh that sounded more mocking than humourous.

"It isn't paranoia if it's true." Samantha flipped thru the folder, signed it quickly before shoving it into her briefcase.

Kara looked around the office. "I like what you did with the place. It seems so much more...organized. Did you hire an assistant?" she asked innocently.

"Cut the crap, Kara. We both know why you're here."

"It's just a friendly visit."

Samantha tried to ignore and not give into her nemesis. "If we were friends, then a visit would be warranted. We're not, so spill it."

"I heard that there was a...situation at the Carter residence a few days ago."

"It's been taken care of," Samantha evaded without answering directly.

"I heard it was pretty serious." Kara looked as though she was thinking—or was that plotting? "An emergency room visit of some type?" She down on the corner of the desk.

"It was nothing serious," Samantha fibbed.

"I hope no one was hurt."

"As I said, it's been taken care of." Samantha yanked the zipper hard along the length of the briefcase. It was taking everything she had to hold on to her temper. "Besides, you have the Sheriff's report and the doctors' notes; even your supervisor said that the case would not be investigated further."

Kara tapped her forefinger on her chin. "Perhaps. Well, I would agree that we both want what is best for Taylor. Wouldn't you?"

Samantha turned to face her. "What are you saying, Kara?"

"I know you have a soft spot for John Reese."

"I care about what happens to him and his little boy," Samantha corrected. She wasn't going to play Kara's game.

"Semantics. We both know that Taylor would be better off in a two-parent home with a father who can actually provide for him."

"John Reese is an excellent parent."

"A mentally, physically incapacitated man trying to take care of a child is not what I would deem an excellent parent," Kara argued with a dismissive snort.

"He is doing the best he can. We're working with the V.A. to get his benefits re-instated and get his back pay. Once he gets on his feet, he'll be in a better position."

"Heh. That could take _months._ He doesn't have months. If I remember correctly, we are due back to court in a little under three weeks." Kara crossed her arms over her breasts. "I'm sure the judge isn't going to appreciate John's lack of income."

"It's going to get fixed soon. Trust me." Even if she had to tunnel into the government database and hack the DOD, Samantha was going to get things turned around for John and Taylor.

"I heard there was a sighting of Paul," Kara provided the tidbit of information.

Samantha turned around. "Where?"

"Philly...I think." Kara shrugged indifferently. After all, what did she care? "Or Harrisburg. Maybe it was one of the burroughs in Manhattan. I forget."

Samantha made a mental note of all the cities Kara listed. If there was even a remote chance that Paul could come back... She shook her head. No, it was best if Lionel checked up on the rumour.

"You impress me," Kara praised in a backhanded way.

"How?"

"You're good at what you do. Maybe better than I anticipated. But nothing you do is going to change the outcome. Taylor deserves a home with two parents, and one of those parents isn't going to be John Reese," Kara stated succinctly.

"What do you know about being a parent, Kara? I checked your records and nothing indicated that you were ever married. Nor did it say that you have children."

Kara weighed the accusation. Her nose twitched as she tried to control her temper. "Well, neither do you. I would say that your assumption of John Reese's capabilities is more hero-worship than lawyer/client. Not exactly professional on your part," she purred.

"I don't know why you hate him so much. But I'm going to find out, and when I do, I'm going to take you down hard, Kara. That's a promise," Samantha made her pledge.

Kara's laugh was short with a touch of bitterness. "Heh. I'm not afraid of you."

"Neither am I of you. I'm not sure why you came here, but I'm going to ask you to leave because I have work to do." It was taking every bit of energy to pick up the social worker and toss her out the door, but Samantha held herself in check. More than her law firm was on the line: John and Taylor and their fates rested in her hands.

Kara slid off the desk. Her eyes were hard, but her smile—dangerous and cunning—remained. She had sized up her opponent and found her weakness. Now she was going to use it to her full advantage.

"Forgive me for interrupting." Kara looked at her watch. "I would love to stay and chat, however, I have a very important meeting I need to head to." She headed to the door, opened it.

"John is a great parent," Samantha defended her friend. "Sooner or later, you will find that out."

"Some people don't deserve to be parents. Some people deserve to live a life of bitter loneliness."

Intrigued by the enigmatic statement, Samantha couldn't resist asking, "Who hurt you, Kara?"

A brief flash of sadness shone in Kara's brown eyes before her face hardened. "Someday you'll learn that getting hurt isn't as satisfying as the revenge you can have in return."

"John will die without Taylor."

A brief smile tugged on Kara's lips. "I'll see you in court," she answered, closing the door firmly behind her.

Never one to get caught up in emotions, Samantha was surprised at the sudden rush of tears that blinded her. Using the back of her hand, she brushed them away.

"Stupid tears." She took a few deep breaths. "Get focused, Sam. Let's finish this filing, then we'll go over to see Joss. Maybe stop by Zoe's for a donut, okay?" she gave herself a pep talk. But that didn't stop the dread she felt. Something was going to happen, but until Kara played her hand, all they could do was wait.

However, she could still try to cover one base. Picking up her phone, she dialed quickly.

"Lionel...hey! Guess who just received a visit from Kara Staton? She dropped a bread crumb concerning Paul. Apparently he might be staying in one of the burroughs on Manhattan. No, I'm not sure where exactly. Can you work your magic before Kara does something outrageous? Thanks, honey. Love you."


	35. Chapter 35

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

"You really should have stayed home," John gently admonished as he stepped from the truck out into the cold air. He walked to the back of the truck and began to untie the ropes holding down the large Evergreen.

Joss rolled her eyes. "I was tired of being cooped up inside four walls, John," she retorted as she closed the truck door with her hip. In her hands she carried a large bag filled with items for dinner.

"I just worry about you." It had been fun going to town to get the tree, but John was kicking himself for taking Joss. Maybe he should have left her at home. He looked closely. Was she a little pale? Was she breathing a little too hard? At least they weren't going anywhere for the rest of the day.

Joss sighed. "Well, don't." She looked at Taylor who was climbing out of the truck with Bear following closely behind. "Will you carry this to the house?" she asked before handing over the bag.

"Uh huh."

John watched as Joss and Taylor interacted. His heart beat happily. The wall that had been between them had come down and it seemed as though they had found their happy medium. They shared a closeness he should envy, but he didn't. Now, if only he and Joss could get back to that place again...

"John?" Joss's voice broke him out of his reverie.

John shook his head. "You said something?"

"Do you need help with the tree?" Joss repeated.

"Yes, but not from you."

"I can carry a tree," she argued.

"No. Doctor's orders."

"Argh! The doctor didn't say anything about not lifting a tree."

"He didn't say anything about being able to lift a tree, either," John replied.

Joss put her hands on her hips. "I can help."

"Taylor can help. Sport," John called out, "give that to Joss and come give me a hand." Eagerly, Taylor did as he was told.

"Stay right there," John ordered as he lifted the heavy, bulky tree from the bed of the truck. "Take this end." He handed the pointed end to Taylor while he took the trunk. "Let's get this inside. Joss, get the door."

Realizing that any further argument would be a waste of energy, Joss hurried up on to the porch and opened the front door. With grunts and groans, John and Taylor carried the tree inside the living room. Leaning it up against the wall, John eyed it.

"I'll go get the base."

"I'll do it," Joss volunteered. She had to do something, or she was going to go mad. What was wrong with John? She would rather be fighting with him, than to have this constant hovering he was doing.

"No. You stay here and make sure the tree doesn't move," John said before he disappeared toward the back of the house.

"Do you know why he's acting the way he is," Joss asked Taylor.

Taylor shrugged. "I don't know," he answered honestly. He was saved from any further explanation as John pulled a large box across the floor.

"What's that?" Joss asked with curiosity.

"Tree decorations." John lifted a cardboard flap. He groaned. "How did this happen?" he asked, lifting the mass of tangled tree lights. Taylor looked away. "Looks like I know what I'll be doing."

"That's why pre-lit trees are the best," Joss said.

"Expensive."

"Logical."

John extended the lights. "You wanna do this?"

"That's alright. Taylor and I will sort thru everything else," Joss volunteered, not the bit envious over John's task. Heads bent over the box, she and Taylor began taking out the many boxes filled with various ornaments and other items to decorate the tree. An hour later, the lights were free and clear, and the decorating could begin.

Drinking from large cups of cocoa, topped with marshmallows, and munching on Santa cookies, the trio carefully wrapped the lights around, then began with hanging the ornaments. Christmas music filled the room as they completed their chores.

Laughing loudly as they tossed tinsel at one another, they almost didn't hear the knock on the door. Louder the second time, Bear growled low as he took his place. John turned down the music before opening the door.

"May I help you?" John asked the older man dressed in a leather fur-lined coat, with a gun on his hip.

"John Reese?"

"I'm John Reese."

"I'm sorry to have to do this, but..." The man reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope. He handed it over to John. "Consider yourself served."

Flummoxed, John opened the screen door and took the envelope. "What is this?" His fingers clumsily pulled open the flap. He took out the formal letter.

"I don't know, sir." Touching his two fingers to his forehead, the older man gave a nod. "Good day." Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

Stunned at what he was reading, John barely remembered closing the door. Instantly, Joss and Taylor were beside him.

"Who was that?" Joss asked.

"An officer of the court."

"What did he want?" Joss looked at the paper. Her eyes focused on the legal terms peppered through out the letter. "What is that?"

"A subpoena to appear in court on Thursday," John replied hollowly. A feeling he couldn't explain was filling his gut. He tried to shove it aside.

"Thursday? What for?"

"It doesn't say. We're supposed to appear before Judge Lynch at eleven a.m."

"I thought your family judge is named Gates."

"He must be out of town."

"Does this mean I'm going away?" Taylor asked suddenly. Fear replaced the happy look that had just been in his eyes.

Instantly contrite, John donned a reassuring smile. "No. It's probably a quick hearing to find out what happened the other day." He ruffled Taylor's hair. "No need to get worried, okay, son?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Tell you what," Joss interjected. "Why don't you call Sam, while Taylor and I finish the tree, then we'll get something to eat? Later, we can watch that new Christmas movie I bought."

"Sure," John replied. Pulling out his phone, he took the call in the kitchen. With less enthusiasm than earlier, Joss and Taylor finished the tree. Trying to lighten the mood, Joss sang along with the songs and tried to get Taylor to join in. Reluctantly, he did, despite not knowing many of the words. Neither spoke about what John could be hearing from Samantha.

The timer sounded in the kitchen. "Dinner is ready," John called out. Joss and Taylor joined him.

"What did Sam say?" Joss asked as she passed the bowl of mashed potatoes to her right.

"She is looking into it. She's going to get back to us as soon as she can."

"Do we have to go?" Taylor asked.

"We do," John confirmed the worst. "Don't worry, Taylor, everything is going to be alright."

"Yeah."

Dinner over and dishes done, they retreated to the living to watch the movie. Although it was a light, pleasant, romantic comedy, Joss couldn't keep her mind on the storyline. As the credits rolled, she looked at John who was lifting a sleeping Taylor into his arms.

"Out like a light, huh?"

"I wondered if he was going to make it to the end."

Joss started to get up from the couch. "I can help..."

"No. I'll do it. You stay there." John carried Taylor up the stairs to his bedroom. A few minutes later, he re-joined Joss on the couch.

"What's wrong, John?"

"Nothing."

"The subpoena. It may not be that bad," she offered up what little reassurance she could.

"I don't know, Joss. I'm trying not to think about it." But John knew he was lying to himself. All he could think about was court on Thursday.

"What did Sam really say?" Joss asked.

"Apparently, Kara made a visit to her office yesterday. She didn't reveal anything, but Sam thinks she may have been planning this," John relayed what he couldn't say in front of Taylor.

"What could she have up her sleeve?"

"I don't want to think about it."

"Could she...you know, take Taylor away?"

"I don't know." How he was going to broach the subject with Taylor, John didn't have any idea where to begin. Yes, he had made a promise to tell the truth, but there was a difference between being honest and deliberately frightening the young boy.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Joss asked. If John and Taylor needed a witness to what happened, she would gladly volunteer her side of the story. Surely, the judge would be open-minded enough to hear both sides of the story, right?

John intertwined his fingers with Joss's. It was taking everything in him not to worry or burden her with his personal problems. God knew she had enough stress without his legal situation adding to it. But he needed her.

"I would like that." He felt a little of the weight that was burdening him, lift. "I never thanked you for being there for Taylor."

"I didn't even think twice about it," Joss confessed. "He needed help, and I am glad that I was there."

"So am I."

"We'll go to the court date and explain what happened. I'm sure the judge will appreciate knowing what happened. Then we can come home and finish the tree," Joss said.

John's hand tightened around hers. He believed her. "Yes."  
**********

The mood outside of the courtroom was subdued. On benches lined against the walls, dozens of people—some with children; others without—waited for the bailiff to call their name from the roster.

"Hi John," Samantha greeted, walking toward her clients. Her smile and walk seemed confident, although she was shaking inside.

"Hi Sam. Any news on what to expect?" John asked.

"Honestly, no. Judge Lynch is usually fair, but...he is a strict by-the-book judiciary. I submitted the report to him. What he does with it, though, I can't predict. But don't worry," Samantha tried to reassure him. She looked at Taylor.

"You look really nice, Taylor," she complimented.

"Thank you, Miss Samantha."

A head popped out of one of the double doors. "John Reese!" the uniformed man called out.

"That's us," Samantha said. "No fidgeting. Let's get it over with."

"I'm sorry, but the child is going to need to remain behind," the bailiff informed in a cold tone. Samantha and John looked at one another.

"I don't understand."

"Judge's orders. Child stays out here."

Against her better judgment, Samantha gave in. Kneeling down, she looked Taylor in the eyes. "Taylor, I need you to stay here with Joss while we go inside, okay?" Taylor nodded slowly. "Joss? You'll watch him?"

"I'll take care of him," Joss promised and patted the bench seat beside her for Taylor to come and sit.

Samantha led the way into the courtroom. Standing in front of the bench, she waited for John to stand beside her.

"The People vs John Reese," Judge Lynch said in a neutral tone.

"Samantha Groves-Fusco representing, your honour."

"I am well aware of who you are," Judge Lynch dismissed her. "Mr. Reese, you were summoned here today because a complaint of neglect and abuse has been filed against you."

Startled by the information, John looked at Samantha.

"Your honour, we were led to believe that it was an inquiry—" Samantha began her argument before being interrupted.

"I am well aware of the inquiry," Judge Lynch replied. "I am more concerned about the events that transpired on the morning of December 7th. Mr. Reese, were you or were you not responsible for your charge?"

"I was. I am," John confirmed.

"And were you or were you not present when said charge fell into an icy pond, nearly drowning?"

"I was in town—"

"Answer yes or no."

"I wasn't present."

Judge Lynch's lips thinned in disapproval. He pushed his bi-focals further up the bridge of his nose. "I see. The report also states that you were in the presence of a woman—Zoe Morgan—while your charge was left alone in the home."

"That's not true, your honour," Samantha interjected.

"I wasn't speaking to you, counselor." Judge Lynch leveled a steel blue stare at her. "Mr. Reese, answer the question: Were you or were you not in the presence of Zoe Morgan the morning of the incident?"

"I was, your honour," John admitted reluctantly. A murmur rose in the crowd watching the proceedings.

"So, you admit to leaving your charge alone?"

"He was not alone. Joss Carter was with him," John argued.

"Are you claiming that this Joss Carter person was caring for him when said incident occurred?"

"I—I believe she was." John felt a dull roar in his ears become louder with each passing second.

"So, I'm led to believe that both of you—one guardian, the other no relation—both failed to supervise your charge—ultimately neglecting him so he nearly drowns," the judge stated. Each word seemed like a nail in John's coffin.

"Your honour..." Samantha tried to think quick so the whole situation could be resolved in a satisfying, yet legal manner. But nothing was coming to her brain. Never had she been so blind-sided or rendered so helpless.

"One more word from you, counselor, and I will hold you in contempt of court," Judge Lynch ordered briskly. "Ms. Staton, I have received your report. It states that you found Mr. Reese to be abusive and neglectful."

"It was an accident," John stated vehemently. But the judge ignore the outburst as he continued his inquiry.

"Ms. Staton, after reading your report, I feel I must concur with your findings. What are your suggestions?"

"I move to have the child removed from the home immediately," Kara stated in her most professional tone.

"NO!" John responded with an almost guttural sound that seemed to come from the very depth of his soul. The roar was now the sound of the ocean. A white pain flashed in front of his eyes, causing him to be momentarily blinded.

"Motion to have child removed is approved. Bailiff, please take the child into custody."

"Sam, what's happening?" John asked, his voice hoarse as he tried to remember how to breathe.

"Your honour," Samantha began. What was happening? What had happened? She tried to make heads or tails of what just transpired, but nothing was making sense.

"Case dismissed." Judge Lynch banged the gavel with finality. "Next case."

"This can't be happening," Samantha repeated.

"Counselor, please remove yourselves from my courtroom," Judge Lynch commanded.

Blindly, Samantha led John from the courtroom to the waiting area. Immediately, Joss rushed up to them.

"They took Taylor," Joss cried. No, _taking_ was an understatement; they had literally ripped the child from her arms. "They took him."

"We know," Samantha replied hollowly. She had been bested, defeated, by her nemesis. How? But black dots were dancing in front of her eyes. She tried to blink them away.

"What happened?"

"Kara got her way," John said. At that moment, Kara exited the courtroom with what could only be described as a Cheshire grin on her face. John felt a rage he had never known course thru him. He took a step forward.

"John, don't," Joss cautioned. Her eyes met Kara's. "You won't help get Taylor back by being in jail."

"He's gone, Joss," John whispered as he felt his heart break into a million pieces. If Kara had strapped dynamite around his heart and lit the fuse, she could not have decimated him more.

"We'll get him back, John. I promise. I promise," Joss vowed.

"What do we do now, Sam?" John demanded.

"I—I don't know." Where had she gone wrong in underestimating Kara Staton? She tried to find an answer, but her brain felt muddled. It didn't help that the world was spinning counter-clockwise. She reached out for John's arm.

"Sam! Are you alright?" John asked, suddenly frightened at the way his friend's complexion had gone gray.

"I—I—" Samantha tried to take a step but her legs went out from under her. She felt herself falling fast, then being caught by strong arms. Her world went black.

John cradled the unconscious woman in his arms as he eased her onto the cold, hard marble floor of the courthouse. "Sam! Sam!" He slapped her wrists to get a response. Nothing.

Clear headed, despite the sudden chaos, Joss dialed quickly. "We need an ambulance at the courthouse. Stat!"


	36. Chapter 36

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Sameen kicked off her shoes and curled her toes in the deep, plush carpet of her hotel room. Closing her eyes, she let out her breath in one long, tired stream. All day long she had been on her feet following Alonzo Quinn from one meeting to another, and now she wanted to relax.

She looked at her watch. Maybe she could try to give Joss a call later. Maybe it was nothing to worry about, but the fact that her boss was refusing to answer any of the messages she was leaving didn't make sense. What seemed even more strange was the fact that she hadn't heard from Joss since that last call over two weeks ago.

Sameen pulled the pins from her hair and let the long brown locks fall over her shoulders. Unbuttoning her blouse, she made her way to the large bathroom. A long soak in the sunken tub and then some room service sounded good. Turning the knobs on the tub, she watched at the water rushed out of the tap. At least something was still normal in her life. Taking the lid off the bottle of bath bubbles, she poured a healthy amount in and watched as the bubbles grew.

The sound of a phone ringing broke into the moment. Turning off the water, Sameen hurried to the main room.

"Hello?" she spoke into the receiver, a part of her hoped it was Joss on the other end.

"Sameen?" Joss asked hesitantly.

"Joss, it's you," Sameen breathed a sigh of relief. "I've been trying to call you for weeks!"

"I've been trying to call _you_ for weeks," Joss returned. "Where have you been?!"

Sameen frowned at the question. "You don't know? Cal didn't tell you?"

"Why would Cal tell me?"

"I'm on an Asian business trip with Alonzo Quinn—have been for over two weeks," Sameen revealed the information.

"What do you mean? I thought you went home for the holidays." At least that is what the office had told her when she called to find out why her receptionist was avoiding her.

"Nope. I was asked to accompany our boss."

"Where _are_ you?"

"Currently? Japan. Tomorrow we go to Hong Kong for three days." Sameen lay down across the King-sized bed and closed her eyes. The travelling was one thing, but the endless hours of standing and/or sitting for meeting and lunches and tours, was taking a toll on her feet and sanity.

"I didn't know that we had anything developing in Asia," Joss mused. Had she missed something in one of the meetings?

"Apparently he wants to expand 'Quinn Enterprises' overseas. A B-n-B in Shanghai sounds romantic, don't you think?" Sameen asked sarcastically.

Joss shook her head. Lately, nothing was making sense—not her trip out to Pennsylvania; not John; not what had happened with Taylor; and most certainly, not her life.

"When are you coming home?"

Sameen shrugged. "I don't know. Right before Christmas, I think."

"Who is taking care of Szymanski?"

"I gave him to my cousin. Don't worry, the cat is in good hands. Unless you want me to ship him out to you," Sameen made her offer again to reunite feline with owner.

"I don't think so."

"What's wrong?"

"Everything. Nothing."

"And here I thought you were going to die from boredom in that middle of nowhere town. What about that guy—John? Isn't he helping to keep you warm on cold nights?" Sameen teased.

"It's not like that, Sameen."

"It could be," Sameen replied saucily. "If you gave it a chance."

"It's deeper than that. John lost custody of his foster son."

"What do you mean 'lost custody'?"

"Long story that involved a misunderstanding, a pond, and Cal Beecher."

Sameen sat straight up. "Cal Beecher? What does he have to do with this?"

"That's the nothing part, I think. Apparently Cal missed me, so he showed up here." How had Sameen not known that Cal had flown out to look for her.

"How did he find you?"

"You gave him the address," Joss said with a twinge of regret in her voice.

"I never gave him your address. In fact, I had that under lock and key."

"That's what he told me when he appeared in the driveway."

"When?"

"A week and a half ago."

Sameen's mind quickly added dates. "That was right when I came out here with Alonzo. What did he want?"

"Other than bring me back to California?"

"He has an agenda, Joss. I think it's the same one that brought me out here."

"I don't understand."

"Why else would Alonzo Quinn want me to accompany him thousands of miles overseas on a business trip that any other assistant could have gone on? Why did he need your assistant? And why would Cal chase you across the continent? Right at this moment?" Sameen asked.

Joss felt her stomach turn sour. Cal had never really been obnoxious or cunning—at least that she could remember. Perhaps a bit overbearing when it came to their relationship, but he had never come off as cunning or conniving. Those terms were better left to his Uncle Alonzo.

"Something is up, Joss."

"I know," Joss admitted, but right now she had to worry about reuniting John with Taylor. It was the least she could do. "Sameen, remember when you told me that you were involved with that super-secret agency before you came to me?"

Sameen's eyes darted right, then left. "Yes. What about it?"

"Was it true?"

"Maybe," Sameen answered ambiguously.

"Well, I need that maybe to do me a favour. Can you use your...mad skills to get some information on a caseworker by the name of Kara Stanton?" Joss asked.

Sameen leaned over to grab a pen and paper. Quickly she jotted down the information.

"She arrived in Lawerence Township approximately six months ago—seemingly out of nowhere. Somehow she knows John, so she either served with him in the Navy or she is related to someone who did," Joss continued.

"Are you sure Kara Stanton is her real name?"

"I don't know. That's why I need you. Think you can do it?"

"I'll do my best. Let me get in contact with some people, and I'll get back in touch as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Sameen."

"What if I can't get in touch with you again?"

"I'm sure we'll talk again. Or you'll find a way."

"Thanks. Talk to you soon, Joss. Bye."

"Bye."

Sameen hung up. For a long moment she was deep in thought. Something was going sideways and she needed to get to the bottom of it. But for now she had to help out her friend. Dialing quickly, she waited for the line to pick up.

"Hey, Michael, it's Sameen. I need you to do me a favour and look someone up."  
*******************

"How is your vacation?" Alonzo Quinn asked into the phone.

"I wouldn't call it a vacation, Uncle. It's more like a business trip," Cal replied.

"I stand corrected. I was expecting to hear from you last week," Alonzo admonished as he picked up the fork and knife to cut into his perfectly cooked Kobe steak.

"There were a few bumps in the road."

"But I take it that you located Joss Carter?"

"I did."

"And...?" Alonzo prompted.

"Her grandmother's home sits on some of the most prime real estate I've ever seen," Cal relayed.

Now his interest was piqued. "How prime?" Alonzo asked.

"Enough to put us in the black for ten years."

"What's the problem?"

"Problem?" Cal echoed. "Why would there be a problem?"

"Because if you had secured the deal, you would have started the conversation with details of when you plan on returning back to California," Alonzo replied in a condescending tone. "Also, I would have had that land deal FedEx'd to me already." He forked a large bite of steak into his mouth and chewed slowly.

"I'm...working on it."

"I'm sure you are," Alonzo said sardonically.

"It's complicated, Uncle."

"Then make it uncomplicated. I plan on leaving this company to you, Calhoun, but I can't leave it if I can't depend on you." Alonzo paid extra attention to his steak, waving off the server who came toward his table.

"Joss is being a little stubborn."

"She has an achille's heel; all women do," Alonzo said confidently. "You need to find it and expose it. Do what you have to, to get that land."

"But—"

"There are no 'buts' about it, nephew; grab the land, get the girl, then get home before Christmas. That's an order," Alonzo's tone was no nonsense and left no room for arguing. He hit 'end call'.

"Whatever you say, Uncle," Cal said to no one on the other end.  
**********************

Joss knocked softly on the door frame of the workroom but John didn't bother to look up from his task. She stepped inside.

"John?" she asked over the sound of the electric saw. She took for granted that he hadn't heard her. "John!" she repeated a bit louder.

Intent on his task, John kept his head down. He stopped when Joss placed the coffee mug in front of him. Turning off the saw, he removed the protection goggles. He flicked a gaze upward.

"Thanks," he said, but he didn't touch the mug.

Joss sighed. "John...you need to take a break."

"I'm fine, Joss." He didn't want to fight. Not now.

"You've been down here for hours. I think you need to take a break," Joss tied to soothe without sounding patronizing.

"I'm busy." John replaced the goggles and hit the power button to restart the saw. Joss reached over and pulled the power cord from the wall. "What did you do that for?" John demanded angrily, but his throat was raw with unshed tears.

"You need a break, John."

"I don't need a break! I need to finish this—this..." His mind tried to find the right word but came up blank.

"Have a cup of coffee with me. Please," Joss said softly. She could see that he was hurting and she wanted to try and take some of it away.

John threw down the saw with a bit more force than necessary. "And do what, Joss? Talk? Pretend that my heart isn't breaking? Pretend that my world hasn't been yanked out from under me? Pretend that if I go to bed, that I may want to wake up in the morning?" he stated sarcastically.

"I think talking might help," Joss offered.

"My heart is shattered, okay? I want to lay down and die right now." Nothing in his life—including the loss of friends and loved ones and fellow servicemen in his lifetime—had ever prepared John Reese for the most incredible pain to ever been inflicted on his heart.

"I know..."

"You _know_?! You know, what? How I'm feeling? What I'm going through?" John shot back savagely.

"I meant..." Joss began.

"I don't care what you meant!" With the swipe of his arm, John cleared off the table. Every item flew off in various directions to land on the floor. Whimpering in fear, Bear stood up from his pillow and hurried out of the room. The silence that filled the room was beyond deafening.

Joss bowed her head. "I understand, John. I had people I loved ripped away from me." She looked up and held his gaze. "We're going to get thru this. You have to have faith."

"Faith?" John mocked with a short laugh. "What do you know about faith, Joss?"

"John."

"You didn't have faith in me or that I was going to come back to you. You didn't have faith in Sara. And you sure didn't have any faith in love. Now you're going to stand there and tell me to have faith in a system that took away my second chance to get it right with someone I love. Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"I deserve that," Joss admitted.

"What you deserve is to leave and not come back."

Joss took a step forward. "I understand."

"What do you understand, Joss? Can you understand what it's like to have your heart ripped out for the whole world to see? Can you understand what it's like to feel the air being sucked out of your lungs when your heart is ripped out of your chest?" Anger and sadness were in John's voice.

Joss didn't answer.

"I lost everything," John admitted in defeat.

"You didn't, John. We can get him back."

"We? What is this 'we'? You don't even like Taylor. You never cared for him."

"I—" Joss started to contradict the accusation but stopped. Part of what he said was true. But that was before she lost her heart to the sad orphan that reminded her of herself.

"I knew it."

"You don't know anything, John." Joss turned around to leave.

"Before you go, tell me why you left—and don't lie."

Joss turned back around. "Why did I leave? Because you lied to me. You strung me along with promises of forever, then the moment you were free you kicked me to the curb for someone new."

"I didn't do that."

"Yes, you did! How could you forget?" Joss tried not to raise her voice but she was losing patience with John. It didn't help that her heart was breaking all over again.

"What do you mean? I have only loved you."

"What about Jessica? Did you forget about her the way you forgot about me?"

John was flummoxed. "Jessica?"

"Jessica Ardnt. The woman you were going to have to marry because she was..." Joss stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

John's eyes narrowed. "She was what?"he prompted her to finish her accusation.

Joss closed her eyes, swallowed. "Pregnant. With your child."

John sighed. "It's not what you think, Joss."

"Your letters stopped. I was alone. Then I heard about Jessica. What was I supposed to think?" Joss's voiced quavered. "I ran because I didn't want to be reminded of you anymore. I ran because my grandmother and I had a stupid fight over you. I ran because I was young and stupid and thought I knew everything about life."

The room was dead silent.

"That morning, Grandmother and I said horrible things to each other—and the last thing she said to me was that if I left to never think about coming back," Joss confessed. "And the last thing I said to her..."

Joss swallowed a sob. She bowed her head.

"The last thing I said to her was that I would rather die than ever step foot on this property again. And...and that I never wanted to see her again." The tears flowed fast and hot. Joss raised her head.

"There. You know the truth now. Happy? I wasted all of those years because of pride and selfishness. And if you think for two seconds that my heart isn't still broken, then you're wrong. All the time I was away, I tried not to think about you and wonder if you were happy with her. And I wondered what she had that I didn't."

"Joss, the baby wasn't mine."

Struck dumb, Joss hurried out of the room. John stood in the middle of the room, trying to absorb the confession. Meanwhile, outside, the blizzard raged.


	37. Chapter 37

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Seated at a table in the far corner of the bar, John gazed with disinterest at the pyramid of shot glasses set in front of him. Thanks to the storm the bar was nearly deserted—save for a couple of regulars who were seated at the counter watching the football game and the two couples dancing to the sappy love song blarring from the jukebox.

Despite not being a country music fan, even he had to admit that the songs about heartbreak and betrayal more than mirrored his life at that moment. Finishing his shot, he placed it on the table next to the other glasses.

"How you doin', John?" the pretty brunette waitress asked.

"I'm good, Megan."

"You're hitting that stuff pretty hard," she observed with just a touch of sympathy. "Can I call you an Uber?"

"I'm fine. Can you bring me another round?" John asked, trying not to sound irritated. All he wanted to do was forget about everything—Jessica, Sara, Taylor, and Joss. He just wanted to pickle his brain so every single memory would go away.

Megan hesitated. "I don't know, John. You're pretty toasted." She wasn't exactly the best judge of character, but it didn't take a brain surgeon to see that the man in front of her was suffering.

"Ask me how many fingers."

Unsure at first, Megan held up three fingers. "How many?"

"Three."

"Lucky guess." Megan gave in. "One more round and then I'm getting you a ride home. Understood?" Her voice was firm.

John popped off a salute. "Aye aye." Megan started to clear off the empty glasses. "No," John objected. "Keep them there." Every glass had a name, but he didn't want to part with them quite yet.

"Whatever you say." Megan turned on her heel, walking away. Busy with stacking the glasses in a new order, John didn't see the figure approaching to stop next to the table.

"Thought I might find you out here," Lionel greeted. "I've been looking for you all night."

"I'm busy, Lionel."

"Yeah, I can see that." Lionel sniffed the air, grimaced. "How can you stand this? It smells in here."

"That's because it's a bar, Lionel; it's supposed to smell." John put one glass on another and watched as they toppled over.

"Yeah. Well, it smells barsy."

John looked unimpressed. "Barsy? What brings you here?"

"I thought I'd be the first to tell you that I'm going to be a dad."

John stayed focused on the task. "Sam's pregnant?"

"Yep. A little Mini-Me is going to land in this area come June," Lionel announced. "Thought I'd share it with you."

"Thanks."

Taken aback by the dismissive attitude, Lionel blinked. "Thanks? That's all you can say?"

"I'm not in the mood to be festive right now." Megan brought the round over, setting it down. The corner of John's mouth tugged, but he couldn't smile. "Thanks."

"Hi, Sheriff. Get you a lemonade?" she offered politely.

"Can you make that cherry-limeade twisty thing?"

"Sure. It will be right up." Megan left the two men alone.

"She's a good kid."

"Yep." John tried to stack a couple of more glasses. This time they stayed.

"Working her way thru medical school." Lionel cast a glance at table. "From what I can see, the way you're drinking she is going to have all the tuition she needs."

"Where were we?" John diverted the present conversation.

"I was telling you that I was going to be a dad, and you replied 'thanks'."

"Oh."

"I'm not asking for a parade, pal," Lionel replied indignantly. "Maybe just a little appreciation."

"Sorry, but I'm all out of it today." John brought the glass to his lips. After a half dozen shots the whiskey no longer burned going down.

"Well, aren't you just peachy," Lionel puffed.

"I'm busy."

"I can see that. With Taylor and Joss...falling off the wagon..."

John stopped, turned to look at Lionel. "What exactly do you see?"

"That this isn't a good time for you. But I—"

"You're right on that one."

"What the—?! I came down here to share some great news with you, and all you can say is 'thanks'. I thought we were friends."

"Lionel."

"Are you blaming me for you losing Taylor? Is that it? You think all of this is my fault because I didn't stop that woman from coming after you?" Lionel took a step forward. "I did some things, but I didn't call Kara Stanton when Taylor fell into the pond. Go look for another scapegoat!"

"No, Lionel, I'm blaming you for Joss running away," John said evenly. Lionel's eyes widened in surprise.

"My fault?"

"No one else knew about Jessica except you. If you didn't tell her, how did she find out?"

Lionel searched for the right words to say. "It's not what you think."

"I think it's exactly what I think. But if you think you can explain better, go for it."

Meagan interrupted the moment to drop off the tall drink. Without a word, she hurried off.

"I hated Joss—from the moment she tattled on me for hitting her in the eye with the rock, until she left home. I was jealous of the way you two were buddies with each other—and the way she was always goody-goody. When you left, I thought she might move on to someone else, but she didn't."

"We took a blood oath to be brothers forever," John reminded his friend.

"Yeah, well, at that moment of my life, I wasn't thinking too clearly. I was hurting—my father had kicked me out of the house for failing to graduate and losing my scholarship; I was hanging with Simmons and Stills..." Lionel shifted uncomfortably as the memory of his wild days quickly flashed in his mind.

"She thought I was cheating on her."

"You were!"

"It was an accident." A stupid, tragic, mis-step that changed his life forever.

"You don't accidentally have a one-night stand, John," Lionel threw back.

"I was upset and drunk."

"You still cheated on Joss. And you weren't going to tell her."

John's blue eyes hardened. "And you felt it was your duty to let her know?"

"Not initially, no."

"Knew I could count on you, Lionel. With friends like you..." John let the motto hang in the air as he turned back to his task.

"Don't put the blame on me. I'm not the one who roamed. I'm not the one who hooked up with the wife of an officer." Lionel took two steps forward. "You want to play martyr, have at it, pal. But don't put all of the blame on me. I made a mistake out of anger and jealousy. It ruined a bunch of lives. However, I'm taking my second chance for all it's worth."

"Who's the martyr now?" John sneered.

"At least I'm not wallowing in it," Lionel stated. John ignored him. "Look, it's no secret that I hated Joss and I wasn't the least bit upset that she ran away—but what she did to Sara was unforgiveable. But since she's been back she's kinda fitting in. She's lightened Sam's burden at the office. She rescued Taylor. And she's made you smile—sort of."

"Are you saying that you like her now?"

"I guess. The person you know when you're nineteen is entirely different from the person you meet at thirty-six. Joss has grown on me."

"Sure she has," John replied doubtfully.

"She didn't have to jump into the pond and save Taylor. She almost died, or have you forgotten that?" Lionel heaved a heavy sigh. "She could have left this property and pulled it out from under you before you could even blink, but she didn't. Do you know why?"

"I'm sure I can't stop you from telling me," John replied dryly.

"Because she loves you." Lionel watched John's eyes widen briefly. "And you love her, too. You and she have something special—something I've been jealous of—and now you are getting a second chance to get it right."

"Not gonna happen." John finished the shot and slammed the glass down. "Joss left me."

"Try talking to her."

"Can't."

"Won't."

"All we do is fight," John remarked sadly. He was so tired of fighting. Always fighting over nothing.

"Sam and I weren't exactly tag-team partners when we first met," Lionel reminded with a touch of embarrasment. "She tazed me."

"I know. This is different." He would much rather have been tazed than feel the way his heart was breaking.

"You haven't killed each other yet. I call that a plus." Lionel picked up the glass and sipped the fruity beverage. "Talk to her and tell her what really happened; I'm sure she'll forgive you."

"She thought there was a baby," John mumbled.

"My fault," Lionel confessed. "Look, I was stupid. I'll help you fix it." He would—no matter what it took. Even if he had to do it from traction after Samantha found out what he had done. No, he would think about that part later.

"What about Taylor?" John felt the alcohol beginning to kick in. He was so tired.

"One step at a time, pal. We get Joss back, work on getting Taylor reunited with you, then we bury that Kara witch," Lionel laid out the plan of attack.

"She might bury us," John cautioned. He laid his head down on the table. If only he could get the room to stop spinning for a minute, then he could make his way home.

"Not likely. Remember that I used to run with Simmons and Stills." Lionel set his drink down and moved over to help his friend. Hooking his hands under John's armpits, he pulled him into a sitting position.

"I'm going to need you to work with me here, Boy Wonder." Lionel put all of his weight into getting John on to his feet. "Lean against me," he ordered.

"You taking him home?" Megan asked hopefully, eyeing the tall, inebriated John leaning against the short, stout Lionel. If it hadn't been so sad, it would have been comical.

"Yep." Lionel pulled out his wallet and fished out a couple of bills. He thrust them at the young woman. "Put this toward your doctor's license."

"Thanks, Sheriff."

"I'll be in later to settle up his tab. First, I want to get him home and tucked in ahead of the killer headache I know he is going to have."

"Have a safe drive."

"Take care." Lionel tightened his arm around John's waist as he led him out of the bar, into the cold night and bundled inside the cab of the truck. Megan watched until the truck's lights faded into the night.  
*****************

"Are you sure you should be back to work?" Joss asked.

"I'm pregnant, not dying," Samantha replied as she quickly sifted thru the stack of papers on her desk. Three days away and it looked as though an avalanche happened in her office. Forming a plan of attack, she dived in.

"The doctor said you need to rest," Joss rebuked.

"Funny, didn't your doctor say the same thing?" Samantha signed the sheet of paper and tossed it in her OUT box. "I'm fine...as long as I take it easy. And that is why I'm glad you're here."

"Thanks." Joss took the stack of folders and carried them to her desk.

"And you have been here, haven't you?"

"What do you mean?" Joss asked innocently.

"I noticed the indentation on the couch. You've been sleeping here, haven't you?" Samantha's tone was not accusing but understanding.

"Yes," Joss admitted.

"What happened?"

"John and I finally had it out. He wanted to know why I ran away, and I told him. I confronted him about Jessica and that I knew they had..." Joss swallowed down the tears of self-pity. Tears weren't going to change what had happened. Nor would they bring back her grandmother.

"That's why you've been sleeping here?"

Joss shrugged. "Thought I could kill two birds with one stone. At least all of the filing and organizing is done."

"Have you talked to John?"

"No need. When the roads are cleared, I'm heading back to L.A. For Good."

Samantha looked pained at the news. "You're going to leave me?"

"You don't need me." No one really needed her, Joss thought remorsefully.

"I need you, Joss. The office needs you. I can't start to help get Taylor back without you."

"I have a friend working on getting everything on Kara Stanton. I'll make sure it gets transferred to you so you can take her down. But I can't stay."

Samantha stood up. "Yes, you can. John loves you."

Joss shook her head. "Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn't. I don't think any of that matters right now. I want to go home."

"I want you to stay." Samantha tried not to plead but her heart was breaking for her friends. Why couldn't they see what she saw? Why were they so blind?

"A part of me wants to stay, too. I just can't."

"What about the house? The land?"

Joss shrugged. "I'll give it to John."

"Can you do that?" Samantha had read the will carefully for any loopholes, but she couldn't recall a part that allowed for one party to just give the house over and forfeit the caveat.

"Who cares?"

"I think you do. You care more than you care to admit. Admit that you love John and you want to stay here."

"And what will that help?"

"Everything. It will help John get back Taylor, and it will help me keep you with the firm."

Samantha's sad eyes pleaded so intensely that it nearly broke Joss's heart. Joss had to look away.

"I will give you one week. That's all I can do."

Samantha nodded. "One week. Okay." She reached for her purse. "Will you do me a favour and go get lunch?" she asked, thrusting a large bill over. Joss took it.

"What would you like?"

"Soup and crackers sounds good. I think Zoe's special today is vegetable and barley. Get yourself something too."

"Sure." Joss picked up her coat and slipped it on. She pulled on her hat. "Can you do me a favour?"

"Name it."

"Can you draw up the paperwork to get the property transferred?"

"Joss..."

"Please."

"Okay. I'll have it ready by the time you get back."

Joss opened the door, stepped out into the hallway. "I'll be back shortly."

"Take your time."

Joss closed the door quietly.

"I'm going to find a way to make you stay, Joss," Samantha vowed to the empty room. Now she had to formulate a plan to make that happen.


	38. Chapter 38

**Don't Save It All For Christmas Day**

Carrying a bag of bagels and a large styrofoam cup of coffee in his hands, Lionel trudged up the snow covered walkway, up the stairs and to the front door. He pounded on the door frame. He waited, then repeated twice more.

From inside the house, he could hear the shuffle of feet across the wood floor. The sound of locks being thrown was followed by the door swinging open to reveal a disheveled John.

"Bout time you answered," Lionel chastised as he took in his best friend's blood-shot eyes and two day beard.

"Nobody is alive at this time of the morning, Lionel," John rebuked in a gravelly voice thick from sleep and a killer hang-over.

"Not nobody."

"What do you want, Lionel?" John asked impatiently, holding on to the door to help steady the vertigo trying to overwhelm him.

"I'm going out of town for a couple of days, so I thought I'd drop in on you and see how you're doing."

"Explains the coffee," John grumbled, but he winced as a sharp throb began in his brain.

"You're a jerk when you're drunk, but I couldn't leave you high and dry." Lionel handed the cup over. "Oh," he said as an afterthought, "I picked you up some breakfast."

With some reluctance, John took the bag. "Thanks."

"It should tide you over until I get back."

"Where are you going?" John asked. He opened the bag and gave it a sniff. His still weak stomach gave a cautious rumble.

"Can't tell."

"Does Sam know?"

Lionel shrugged. "Heh."

"She's going to put that on your tombstone."

"Maybe. Look, I just have to go out of town for a couple of days to follow up on a lead. I wish I could tell you what it is, but it's a 'need to know' basis," Lionel explained.

"Sure, it is."

Lionel looked around the room. He spied Bear lying on the pillow beside the fireplace.

"Joss come home yet?" A heavy silence filled the area. "Don't worry, pal," Lionel encouraged with a pat on the shoulder, "she'll be back."

"I don't believe in miracles, Lionel." Not anymore, he didn't. He didn't believe in much of anything—except the sun coming up in the morning—but even that was pretty much a gimme, so it didn't count.

Lionel's eyes twinkled. "Maybe you should." He looked at his watch. "I gotta get going." He turned to leave. "Oh, I forgot." He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. "Zoe wanted me to give you this for gas—just in case you get to feeling better and decide to go back into town and finish up her nativity scene."

John took the money. "Thanks."

"You take care and have some faith. You take care of him, Bear; you hear?" he called out. The canine responded with a loud bark. "Be good John."

"Stay safe, Lionel." John watched as his friend walked to the truck and hauled himself inside. A minute later the vehicle was speeding down the road, disappearing into the early morning fog. Turning on his heel, he walked back inside the house and closed the door.  
*********************

It was the sweetest dream. She was lying in the sun, her skin kissed golden. She laughed at something funny the gorgeous hunk of a man said as he handed her a frosty drink. Just as she brought the straw to her lips, a weird twittering sound cut into the moment. An instant later the man and drink were gone, and Sameen was struggling to pull herself out from under the layers of sheets and a quilted down comforter.

Reaching blindly for her phone, she muttered a curse under her breath before hitting 'talk'. "This better be good," she growled into the receiver.

"Aren't you just a ray of sunshine?"

Sameen lowered the phone to glance at the clock. "It's three a.m., Michael. There is no sunshine," she responded crankily.

"Aw well."

"Did you find anything on Kara Stanton?"

"Yes and no."

Sameen pushed the weight of her hair out of her face. "Give me the 'no' first."

"She's a ghost."

"Huh?"

"Okay. Okay. She didn't exist on _any_ radar until a year ago—actually, seven months to be exact."

Sameen quickly became alert. "Seven months? That was when Joss' grandmother petitioned to seek custody of Taylor."

"Coincidence?" Michael asked sarcastically.

"I don't believe in coincidences."

"Exactly. Does the name Mark Snow mean anything to you?"

Sameen shook her head. "No. How is he connected to Joss?"

"I'm not sure. His name popped up while I was digging into everyone's past. It's like a puzzle whose pieces refuse to fit," Michael grumbled.

"Well, make them fit. You need to find out how Kara Stanton and Mark Snow fit into Joss' life and their vendetta against her grandmother's caretaker," she directed briskly. "And I need to find out what Alonzo Quinn has up his sleeve."

"Probably no good."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I did find out that he made a three million dollar transfer to a holding account."

"Did it have a name?"

"Nope. Just an account in Switzerland that is on hold and pending."

"Strange," Sameen murmured. "Well, keep digging."

"You're going to owe me big time."

"Heh."

"Dinner and a movie."

"Burger King and a DVD," Sameen corrected, but she was smiling.

"I'll bring the candles. Let me get back to the internet sluething and I'll call you back when I find something else."

"Thanks Michael," Sameen yawned, snuggling back under the covers. A couple of more hours of sleep and then she could start persuing the leads Michael had given her.

"No problem."

Sameen was out before the call was disconnected.  
****************************

Sitting at the corner table on the far side of the bar, Cal stirred his drink with the thin, long straw. But he didn't drink. No, there was too much on his mind. It should have been so simple: Swoop in, secure the land, pass the cash, and then swoop out with the girl.

 _Don't let me down, Calhoun._ Cal shook his head and ordered another drink.

Not even a brush with death was enough to make Joss leave. If only he could think of something to make her part with that godforsaken house... What would it take to make that caretaker go away?

"John Reese has that effect on people," a smooth voice drawled from behind Cal. He twisted around to look at the brunette stranger. "Mind if I have a seat?"

"Sure."

"What are you drinking?"

"Bourbon."

"Two bourbons!"

"I never caught your name."

"Kara Stanton...and you're Cal Beecher from Los Angeles." Cal raised his eyebrow. "I know more about you than even you know."

"Oh?" The drinks were delivered.

"You want Joss Carter. Your uncle is currently securing deals in Asia. You desperately want that house and land more than Joss, and if the three million in a bank account has any sway, you'll get it. However, you still have to get through John Reese," Kara stated.

"What do you know about my uncle's dealings?" Cal shot back, unnerved by the information held by a complete stranger.

"I know everything. I want to bring down John Reese. Are you with me?"

Despite the feeling in his gut telling him to stay away from the stranger, the thought of failing his uncle weighed greater on his conscience.

"Tell me what I can do to help."

Kara smiled and extended her hand. Cal shook it to seal the deal.  
****************************

John stepped from the shower and reached for a towel. The quick little breakfast Lionel had brought, sort of helped propel him in the right direction. But feeling the spray of the warm jets of water on his skin, really rejuevenated him. Still there was no denying the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his features, as he peered into the mirror. He sighed.

"Come on, John. You have to get it together," he encouraged himself. But his heart still felt sad. There was no way to fake any happiness with Taylor and Joss gone from his life. Why hadn't he tried harder?

The sound of his phone ringing interrupted his self-dispargement. Sprinting to the bedroom, he grabbed the phone. "John Reese."

"Mr. Reese, my name is Andrea Gutierrez; I work as a child advocate.," greeted the unfamiliar voice on the other end. "I was just emailed a request on your behalf requesting a visit with your foster son Taylor."

John felt his heart skip a beat. "Yes." Request for a visit? When? By whom?

"It's been approved. Can you be here within the hour for a visit?" Andrea asked.

"Yes." John's heart was beating faster than he thought possible.

"Okay. I will see you then."

John dropped the phone and hurried to get dressed.  
******************************

"I'm back," Joss announced, walking into the office with the large bag.

"I'm so glad you're back." Samantha hurried over to take the bag. "You have to go."

Joss blinked in surprise. "Wait! What?!"

"You have a visit with Taylor."

"Visit? When did this happen?" What had changed while she was gone?

Samantha cocked her head to the side, pausing as she placed the lunch items on the desk. "You didn't get my text?"

"I—no." Suddenly her phone beeped to alert her to the missed message. She swiped the screen and quickly read the words. "There it is."

"You have twenty minutes to get there," Samantha informed. "It's the building on the corner of Franklin and Alcott?"

"Brick and brand new?"

"That's the one. Now go!" Samantha ordered, pointing toward the door. Knowing that there was no use in arguing, Joss pulled her hat back on and tightened the scarf around her neck. Throwing her friend a confused look, Joss hurried out of the office.

It was only after the door was closed that Samantha realized John and Joss were going to be in the same room together.

"Sara, watch over them, please."


End file.
